


Gravity

by themayqueen



Category: Hanson (Band)
Genre: Acceptance, Alcohol, Blogging, Cancer, Character Death, Chatting & Messaging, College, Coping, Emotional Infidelity, F/M, Flirting, Inspired by Real Events, Internal Conflict, Marijuana, Moving On, Musicians, Nicknames, On-Again/Off-Again Relationship, Online Relationship, Prom, Reunion Sex, Reunions, Songwriting, Star-crossed, Tattoos, Teenagers, Wakes & Funerals, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-07
Updated: 2013-09-26
Packaged: 2018-10-25 04:57:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 19
Words: 70,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10757163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/themayqueen/pseuds/themayqueen
Summary: Adelaide was reluctant to get involved with Taylor. She knew it was dangerous and would change her life, forever, but she didn’t know how. Although she tried to resist him, he became the one constant in her life, even when his life was anything but constant.





	1. A Wishing Tree, I Asked For You

_June 12, 2000_

__

__

> _“If the doors of perception were cleansed every thing would appear to man as it is, Infinite. For man has closed himself up, till he sees all things thro' narrow chinks of his cavern.”_  
>  ― William Blake, The Marriage of Heaven and Hell

He wasn't supposed to happen to me.

That's what I kept telling myself, and for a while I think I even believed it.

I didn't even want to know him, but it seemed impossible to avoid. Everywhere I turned, it seemed he was there -- sitting across the room, staring at me with those impossibly bright blue eyes so intense and focused. 

Although I knew who he was, I managed to avoid a formal introduction for months. I knew we had too many friends in common, though, and it would happen eventually. But as long as I didn't know him, didn't really, truly know him, I could ignore the obvious infatuation he was developing. I could joke about it with my friends and poke fun at the little Hanson boy with a crush on me. 

That is, until I met him.

When my boyfriend Jacob wasn't busy with his senior year of high school and preparing for college, I would drag him to the parties, concerts and things that my friends insisted I go to. I knew every time that Taylor would be there. I also knew that Jacob would be bored out of his mind, but he always agreed to go with me. I began to realize he took some perverse pleasure in strutting about with me on his arm, smirking when we passed Taylor and saw the longing in his eyes.

I can pinpoint the exact day when it changed. I was free of Jacob for once. He was away at college for an orientation thing. This was my first weekend without him in practically the entire year we had been together and it felt very odd, but it was the good sort of odd. The dangerous kind of odd. The kind that makes you forget you've got ties to someone else.

The kind that made me stand up, comb my fingers through my hair and walk right up to the counter where Taylor stood looking alone and out of place. 

“This band kinda sucks,” I said, not thinking of anything better than just to point out the obvious.

Taylor turned his head slightly, like he didn't want to look at me full on. “Most of the bands here suck.”

“Not much of a music scene here in Tulsa, huh?” I replied, and I could see his lips start to turn up in a smile.

He grabbed his coffee from the cashier and handed her a few bills. I realized the slight flaw in my plan then. I hadn't intended to get a drink at all. I began to a feel a little foolish for following him; it was just too obvious, wasn't it? He didn't seem to notice, though, just stepped back from the counter to let the people behind us pass. Maybe he did notice, but had the tact not to say.

“Really, I just come to these things because my friends are in some of the bands, you know. If they asked, I'd probably tell them they should just give up music, but they don't ask, so I don't. Anyway, they're my friends, so what can I do?” Taylor said, and I wasn't even sure if he expected any sort of answer to the ramble. He turned to walk back toward a table and I didn't question whether or not he wanted me to follow, but simply tagged along behind him.

“That's why I come here, too. My friend Eric's band is playing next weekend,” I replied, taking the seat next to him. I scooted the chair back a bit, feeling very self conscious about how close we were.

“You know Eric too?” he asked. Before waiting for a reply, he added, “I guess that's why you look familiar.”

“Well, I know why you look familiar,” I commented, smiling.

“I guess so,” he replied. “What's your name?”

“Adelaide.”

With a huge grin on his face, he held out his hand to me. “It's good to finally meet you, Adelaide.”

Finally. It did feel like the culmination of something, like things had been leading up to that inevitable moment. The way he smiled at me made me suspect that wasn't the end, though. Something, I didn't yet know what, was beginning.

 

_September 3, 2000_

“You've been hanging out with one of those Hansons, haven't you? Taylor?”

I glanced up from the milkshake I'd been staring into and nodded. I hated to admit it to Jacob, but it wasn't the short of think I could expect to keep a secret. Not in a town like Tulsa, where any gossip having to do with Hanson was at the tip of everyone's tongue. I don't know what I had been thinking, assuming that Jacob wouldn't find out. It was stupid.

“Didn't he have a crush on you?” Jacob asked, his eyes narrowing.

I shrugged. “I guess so. He hasn't said anything about it. Honestly, Jake, he's harmless.”

Jacob didn't really seem to believe me, but he at least saw fit to drop the subject then. Truthfully, I wasn't sure I believed me. I'd made a joke out of Taylor's crush with my friends, but that was before I'd given him a chance and gotten to know him. I didn't know him well at that point, but I already knew enough that I didn't think _harmless_ was a good word for him at all.

 

_September 8, 2000_

“You know, I'd seen you around for months before we finally spoke,” I admitted.

Taylor shrugged. “I'm Taylor Hanson. Everybody in Tulsa has seen me around. That sounds really cocky, doesn't it?”

“Just a bit, but it's true. You're allowed to be cocky when it's true."

"So why'd you finally decide to talk to me?" He asked. I could tell the gears in his head were turning. It was always obvious in the way his lips started to turn up in a grin when he asked a question he thought he already knew the answer to.

"Wanted to see what you were all about, I guess," I replied. Vague enough to still be true.

"And your boyfriend wasn't there."

I looked down into my coffee cup. "No, he wasn't. He doesn't visit much anymore. College... takes up a lot of time, I guess."

"He should still visit, though. He'd make time for you if he really wanted to."

"Maybe he would. I don't know; I don't have any clue what college is like," I replied.

"Take it from me, okay? I've got experience with the long distance thing. If you want it to work, you put the effort in."

"I guess you would know about that stuff, Mr. Rockstar," I remarked, trying to lighten the mood. I didn't like the turn things had taken, but since they had, I couldn't stop myself blurting out the truth. "You know, the truth is, I kinda thought you had a crush on me for a while there before we talked."

"Maybe I did, maybe I didn't." He grinned, just a hint of a blush on his cheeks giving away the truth. "I didn't know you then, though. But I'm glad I know you now. So whatever your reason is, I'm glad you gave me a chance."

 

_September 25, 2000_

**blue x skye:** why eighty eight?  
 **eightyeight88:** the number of keys on a piano, of course  
 **eightyeight88:** why blue x skye?  
 **blue x skye:** my middle name is skye. it's kinda weird but i like it.  
 **eightyeight88:** it suits you  
 **blue x skye:** thanks, i guess  
 **eightyeight88:** adelaide skye, hmm?  
 **blue x skye:** yes, why?  
 **eightyeight88:** it's kinda long. do you have any nicknames?  
 **blue x skye:** some people call me ade  
 **eightyeight88:** predictable. what about laide?  
 **blue x skye:** laide?  
 **eightyeight88:** yeah, as in, lady?  
 **blue x skye:** i can honestly say no one calls me that  
 **eightyeight88:** no one but me, you mean  
 **blue x skye:** i guess so  
 **blue x skye:** you know, some people told me you had a crush on me...  
 **eightyeight88:** oh really? do you think i do?  
 **blue x skye:** i don't know. i can't imagine taylor hanson having a crush on anyone like me  
 **eightyeight88:** anyone like you? and what does that mean?  
 **blue x skye:** well, i'm nobody, and you're... you  
 **eightyeight88:** you're a lot of things, but i can promise, nobody is not one of them  
 **blue x skye:** thanks :) i needed that  
 **eightyeight88:** why? what's wrong?  
 **blue x skye:** i really just hate men right now  
 **eightyeight88:** i apologize on behalf of my gender. what did we do this time?  
 **blue x skye:** it's jacob. he's just kinda pushing me away and stuff. i know he's stressed from college but...  
 **eightyeight88:** but?  
 **blue x skye:** he told me things have "changed" or whatever and it's like he thinks i did something wrong  
 **eightyeight88:** what changed? you didn't do anything.  
 **blue x skye:** i know i didn't. i think it's just being apart or whatever. he doesn't like it.  
 **eightyeight88:** he shouldn't blame you for that, though. and if he thinks things are going bad, then he might as well just end it.  
 **blue x skye:** i know but... it's not that simple. he doesn't like you.  
 **eightyeight88:** what have i done? it's not like i've ever told you before that i would be so much better for you than he is, but i would be.  
 **blue x skye:** you did have a crush on me, didn't you?  
 **eightyeight88:** oh don't act like it wasn't obvious.  
 **blue x skye:** it was... maybe it is my fault, then. i knew it and i was flattered. that's why i talked to you.  
 **eightyeight88:** it isn't cheating.  
 **blue x skye:** but it makes me a bad girlfriend, doesn't it?  
 **eightyeight88:** that depends on how you feel about me and what you do about whatever feelings you have  
 **blue x skye:** therein lies the problem. i don't know. i've built a good thing with jacob, you know?  
 **eightyeight88:** it doesn't sound that good to me.  
 **blue x skye:** it used to be. maybe it still could be.  
 **eightyeight88:** do you want to take that chance?  
 **blue x skye:** it's that chance or a chance on something totally untested and unproven. with him i've at least got a good history.  
 **eightyeight88:** i'm a risk, i know it. but i think i'm worth it.  
 **blue x skye:** i just don't know, taylor... it scares me.  
 **eightyeight88:** i know. it's your decision. it always will be.

 

_October 8, 2000_

The phone calls from Jacob seemed to be farther and farther apart as the days and weeks passed. I knew he was busy with college, and as he like to point out, I knew nothing about what college was really like. How could I? After all, I was just a lowly high school senior, and he was a mature college freshman. I didn't stand any chance of forgetting that any time soon, since all of our conversations seemed to revolve around his classes and his new college friends.

Except when they revolved around my friendship with Taylor.

Despite being miles and miles away-–it was hardly two hours, but he made it feel like twenty four-–he was incredibly perceptive about the subtle changes in our relationship. I never mentioned Taylor to him, but Jake always found a way to steer the conversation that way. If I ever mentioned going out with friends, he knew Taylor was one of them-–even when Taylor honestly wasn't. Most of my relationship... friendship... with Taylor was entirely online, since he was busy touring the world. It might have be confined to instant messages, but I hated to admit, it felt more real than what I had with Jacob.

And what I had with him was just increasingly frustrating. I sighed into the phone, wishing I could just ignore his question altogether.

“Well, have you started on your college applications or not?”

“Yeah,” I finally replied, rolling over on my bed to stare at the ceiling. It was roughly as interesting as this line of conversation.

“And? Where are you applying? The deadline for scholarships at OSU is really soon.”

“I'm probably not applying there,” I admitted.

“I thought we were going to get an apartment together next year, though. It'll be cheaper together off campus, and... I mean, isn't that what you wanted?”

“It was, until I visited and saw the college. It just... it isn't me. It's so big and so.... blah.”

There was an awkward silence on the other end. “But I'm here. We had a plan.”

“I know,” I replied. “But I can't just follow you, if it's to a place that I don't want to be.”

“But why don't you want to be where I am? Isn't that enough for you to be happy?”

I could hear Jacob's annoyance growing, and I knew that my next words weren't going to help any. I couldn't lie to him, though-–at least, not any more than I was just by omitting Taylor's growing presence in my life from most of our conversations. I couldn't exactly hide my plans for college from him, though.

“No,” I replied. “I'm really afraid it's not going to be enough.”

 

_November 13, 2000_

**blue x skye:** i really hate jacob right now  
 **eightyeight88:** what did he do?  
 **blue x skye:** he keeps talking about where i'm going to college  
 **eightyeight88:** and where are you going?  
 **blue x skye:** i don't know yet, but it's not going to be osu, even if he is there  
 **eightyeight88:** wow, you really do hate him, don't you?  
 **blue x skye:** i'm not not going there because he's there. but i don't have to go there just because he is. ... did that even make sense?  
 **eightyeight88:** not to anyone but me  
 **blue x skye:** i just want to make my own choices, and i don't see why they have to be based around him  
 **eightyeight88:** they don't. but isn't he the sure thing, like you said? i'm the wild card  
 **blue x skye:** yeah, you are. i mean, at least i could follow jacob if i were that kind of girl. how the hell could i follow someone who lives out of a suitcase?  
 **eightyeight88:** like i said, i'm the wild card  
 **blue x skye:** and jacob is the sure thing. isn't he? good looking, popular, med student... what more could a girl want?  
 **eightyeight88:** someone who lets you make your own choices?  
 **eightyeight88:** someone who tells you he wants nothing more than to wake up next to you every morning, even if he does wake up in a different hotel room each time

 

_December 2, 2000_

I knew it was stupid before I agreed to it. Jacob was still at college taking his finals and I was home all alone. Everything had been a fight for the past week, it seemed. I could feel the threads starting to fray, whatever was left between us starting to disintegrate and leave nothing behind.

So I was going to see Taylor.

Chelsea encouraged it. She had been there during the nights I spent crying over Jacob and the handful of nights I spent trying to act like it was totally normal to sit across from Taylor Hanson in a restaurant booth. She understood. I knew the rest of my friends didn't, and that only made it worse. The whole thing had to be so secret and clandestine, even when it was happening in public.

All my friends were there, including Eric and his disapproving stares and Billie just trying to overlook it. And, of course, Taylor. I would never say he was my type but there was something in the way he looked at me that gave me shivers and made the hairs on my arm stand on end. The way he stared was enough to make me blush so much I could barely even look at him. His eyes seemed to go right through me, like I was a book and he was reading every word, even the ones I didn't know were there.

The entire thing had been elaborately planned between Taylor and I. We arrived separately, him much later than me so that it wouldn't look like we had planned it at all. Then we sat at opposite ends of the table, not across from each other because that would be too suspicious, sipping our coffees and trying not to talk too much. The way his eyes kept sparkling in my direction, I'm not sure we really needed any words. As I tried to pay attention to the conversations going on around us, all I could think about were Chelsea's words to me a few days earlier.

_So just kiss him. That's the only way to know._

I supposed there was a certain logic to it. But I couldn't do that to Jacob. I wasn't even sure I _wanted_ to kiss Taylor. Wasn't that the point, though? How would I know until I did it? How would I know until I gave him a chance, whether or not he was really the one I wanted? 

_So just kiss him._

"Well, I think I'm just going to OSU. I'll know plenty of people there," Eric says, though I barely registered his words at all until I heard my name. "What about you, Ade?"

"Oh... I don't know," I said with a shrug, trying my best to look noncommittal and unconcerned. I failed.

"You don't know? Isn't it kind of a big decision?" Taylor asked and I was amused that he, the one who had never even gone to a public school of any kind, was the one to chastise me.

"Well, I guess I could go to OSU, but I don't really want to. Just seems too big and... blah. It's not me. I'd rather go somewhere really different that I've never been before."

"So why don't you?" he asked.

I hated that line of conversation. I wished he hadn't started it, but I wasn't surprised. He liked to find the things that tugged at your emotions and poke and prod until he got a reaction.

I stared intently into my cappuccino when I answered. I couldn't stand to see his eyes. "Because of Jacob. He's just making the whole thing more difficult than it would have been anyway."

An awkward silence descended over the table. I braced myself for Taylor's response, biting my lip so hard I feared I might draw blood. But no response came, and Chelsea wisely steered the conversation toward her choice of college. I could always count on her. In this, she felt like my co-conspirator.

With a pointed look at me, Taylor tapped his cigarette pack against the table. He stood and excused himself outside to smoke. I followed in his footsteps a moment later, mumbling something about going to the little girl's room. It was a flimsy excuse.

I wound my way through the crowd, thankful at least that the bathroom was near the front so it almost looked like I wasn't lying. I didn't see Taylor through the coffee shop's window, but when I walked outside I saw that he was making his retreat around the corner of the building. Smart. Secret.

_Just kiss him._

"Did they see you follow me?" he asked, pulling the black cigarette from his lips.

"I don't think so," I said. "Anyway, they knew where I was going, I'm sure."

He took a confident step toward me. "Would it be so horrible if they did know? If they saw?"

I wanted to say yes. I wanted to scream that yes, it would be horrible. None of them were particularly friends with Jacob, so I didn't worry that they would run off to tell him. It was just the principle of the thing. I couldn't and wouldn't cheat on him so blatantly.

"It just makes things more complicated," I finally admitted.

"Maybe I like complicated. Things are more fun that way," Taylor said.

"Maybe they are."

He took another step closer to me, the cigarette now laying abandoned in a puddle. I listened to the soft sizzle as it burnt itself out, anything at all to distract myself from how close Taylor was to me. I could smell his cologne. I could smell _him_ and it was so different from Jacob that I-–

_Kiss him._

And I couldn't do it. I couldn't. I wasn't even sure that I wanted to, and I just needed to get out of there before I talked myself into it. I stuttered out something about people wondering where we'd gone and I turned around before Taylor could say anything or give me those eyes that would make me reconsider it all and stay out there with him.

I decided right then that I absolutely hated Taylor Hanson's eyes.

> _“I am troubled, immeasurably_  
>  _by your eyes._  
>  _I am struck by the feather_  
>  _of your soft reply._  
>  _The sound of glass_  
>  _speaks quick, disdain_  
>  _and conceals_  
>  _what your eyes fight  
>  _ _to explain.”  
>  _ ― Jim Morrison, Wilderness: The Lost Writings, Vol. 1


	2. Found Your Shooting Star

_January 5, 2001_

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> _“If love were what the rose is, And I were like the leaf, Our lives would grow together, In sad or singing weather, Blown fields or flowerful closes, Green pleasure or grey grief; If love were what the rose is, And I were like the leaf.”_  
>  ― Algernon Charles Swinburne

 

 **eightyeight88:** have you even seen him since he got back from college?  
**blue x skye:** no, but i haven't seen you for weeks either  
**eightyeight88:** you know you won't see me for a few more weeks. we're going out to la and sundance  
**blue x skye:** yet it still feels like i spend more time “with” you than i do jacob, and he's only two hours away  
**eightyeight88:** food for thought, i would say  
**blue x skye:** but what to make of it?  
**eightyeight88:** that he's not treating you the way you deserve, and you know it. no thought required.  
**blue x skye:** so i should leave him for you?  
**eightyeight88:** you need to ask? you know i would treat you so much better than he has  
**blue x skye:** you'll be even farther away most of the time  
**eightyeight88:** i don't have to be near you to trust you and respect you  
**blue x skye:** no, but it helps. not with the trust and respect, really, but it just... helps  
**eightyeight88:** i can't change the distance, i just want to change your mind  
**blue x skye:** it's not that i don't... i don't know, tay. i just can't picture it. you and me.  
**eightyeight88:** i can, and i promise you it would be perfect. we would be so good  
**blue x skye:** maybe you're right  
**eightyeight88:** i know i am  
**blue x skye:** i'm just so scared, tay. leaving him is fucking terrifying.  
**eightyeight88:** is it really leaving him or is it being with me that scares you so much?  
**blue x skye:** what would you say if i said both?  
**eightyeight88:** that i understood  
**blue x skye:** then yeah, it's both

 

_February 16, 2001_

Every instant message conversation with Taylor left me in tears. I was glad that I had received a laptop as a Christmas present. It was supposed to be for college, but it was infinitely useful for keeping this thing with Taylor a secret. I would sit up late at night, sometimes really late when he was in a different time zone, sobbing in the dark as he told me over and over all the reasons why he would be better for me than Jacob.

I was pretty certain my mom was beginning to notice how many boxes of tissues I was going through, but she hadn't said anything.

Every night, after crying my eyes dry, I would go to bed resolute that the next day would be the day I broke up with Jacob. And every morning, I woke up and discovered that I just couldn't do it. I had been with him for over a year. I had a plan with him, amended now to fit the fact that I would not be joining him at OSU. I had a future with him. What did I have with Taylor but pretty words on a screen?

I had one rule for myself. I couldn't chat with Taylor while I was on the phone with Jacob. The opportunity presented itself a few times, because Taylor's schedule was unpredictable and we'd just gotten cable internet to go with my new laptop, but I always resisted. I knew I would just end up a teary mess and I couldn't explain that to Jacob.

That day, though, it was Jacob who made me cry.

“We had dinner last weekend. I thought that was your Valentine's Day present.”

“I thought there would be an _actual_ present, too,” I replied. 

I felt childish for caring so much about a stupid holiday, but I couldn't help it. It just seemed like further proof that he was only phoning the relationship in – literally. A lack of flowers and chocolate was a lot more petty than my choice of college, I knew, but it still mattered to me. Jacob never seemed to care about the things that mattered to me, I realized. He always found some reason to put them down.

“I really don't have time to fight about this,” he said. “I have a biology test tomorrow and I can't get below a B on it.”

“Yeah, fine,” I replied. “Because it doesn't matter what I want, right?”

“Did I say that?”

“You didn't have to.”

He sighed. “Ade, I don't even know what you're talking about now.”

I took a deep breath. This was it. “I can't do this, Jacob. I can't do four more years of this before we can really be together.”

“It's your choice not to come to OSU.”

“That's not what I mean. I can't do _this_. It won't be any different once we are together. How could it be?”

“How couldn't it be?”

Tears were streaming down my face, but I barely even noticed them falling until they hit my lips and I tasted the salt. “I don't want to take that risk. I don't want to fight every week for four years and then find out we're just going to keep fighting. I can't do it.”

“So you're breaking up with me.”

“I guess I am,” I replied. “I guess that means you probably won't be my prom date, huh?”

“No, I won't.”

 

_March 20, 2001_

Taylor didn't wait for me. After he got back from his travels around the country, I rushed to tell him about breaking up with Jacob and he seemed far less impressed that I expected. Honestly, I don't know _what_ I really expected from him. Why would someone like him, with thousands of girls to choose from, wait around for me to make up my mind? He had seemed so persistent, though.

Too soon, he was gone again, off to New York for lots of meetings with people he didn't give a shit about and promotional events with people he gave even less of a shit about. When he came back, all he could talk about was some girl named Hannah. He didn't talk about her the way I thought he might talk about me, but it was obvious that she meant something to him. The breakup with Jacob had broken _something_ in me. I didn't feel any hurt at the thought that Taylor was with someone else. I didn't feel anything but alone, and I was pretty sure I deserved to be.

He acted like we were just friends. He still wanted to hang out, and this time he decided to introduce me to his friends and family. I knew of his brothers, of course, and I was aware that there were several more Hansons, but I hadn't met any of them. The few mutual friends we had were really little more than acquaintances on his part; this movie night he planned would be the first time he had brought me into his world. I thought it meant something important, but I reminded myself that he had a girlfriend.

On the drive to his house, Taylor explained to me that Zac's girlfriend had just broken up with him. She was his first real girlfriend, and Taylor thought Zac probably loved her. Zac wasn't a romantic like him, he said, but he could tell there was something special about Marion from the way Zac talked about her. The way he used to talk about her, Taylor amended. Now that they had broken up, Zac didn't really talk about _anything_ or to _anyone_.

He didn't talk much to me, either. He barely even grunted a hello when Taylor introduced us and he didn't budge from his spot on the couch to shake my hand the way Isaac did. He didn't look my way when I found myself sandwiched in between him and Taylor, holding the popcorn bowl for the two of them.

There didn't seem to be anything alive in Zac at all, until our hands brushed together over the last handful of popcorn. That at least managed to warrant a scowl, the first emotion he'd shown all night. It faded quickly as I let my hand drop and stared up at him, my face certainly somewhere between apologetic and scared. To my surprise, he gave me a genuine, apologetic smile of his own.

I held his stare for a moment longer, analyzing him. There was more to Zac than I'd seen at first, I decided. There was depth in his dark eyes, so different from the reflective surface of Taylor's that seemed to only reveal the parts of you that you didn't want to see. He was soft but masculine, an obvious strength hidden under childish fluff, while Taylor was all long lines, sharp angles and that feminine face that I sometimes hated. 

He was different from Taylor, and I thought that maybe he was what I needed.

 

_April 7, 2001_

**blue x skye:** what movie are we going to see?  
 **eightyeight88:** i think everyone else agreed on along came a spider  
 **blue x skye:** i haven't read the book  
 **eightyeight88:** it's good. zac and i both read it  
 **blue x skye:** he's still coming, right? he's been pretty upset about marion. are you sure he's ready to date again?  
 **eightyeight88:** who said it was a date?  
 **blue x skye:** isn't it? you're going with that emily chick  
 **eightyeight88:** only because she needs a ride there  
 **blue x skye:** so it isn't a date? you're not setting me up with zac?  
 **eightyeight88:** if you want it to be a date with him, then i suppose it is. i thought you weren't ready either, though  
 **blue x skye:** i don't know if i am, but how else am i going to find out but to try?  
 **eightyeight88:** can't argue with that logic. i just don't want you to go into this expecting more from zac than you're going to get.  
 **blue x skye:** i'm not sure that i expect anything other than a movie  
 **eightyeight88:** then i guess you're golden

 

_April 23, 2001_

I chickened out on the movie, and Taylor knew it. I think he knew it, at least. I called him the night before and put on my best sick voice, assuring him that my allergies were acting up too badly for me to go anywhere. The funny thing is, Zac did the same thing with a migraine. If it was really a date, it wasn't for us. Taylor, Emily, Isaac and a few more of their friends who I had only briefly met at Taylor's house went without us, and I only felt a little bit guilty for canceling. I couldn't decide who to direct my guilt toward, though – Zac or Taylor.

I had a more important date looming in my near future to worry about, though. My senior prom.

If it had been up to me, I wouldn't have gone to it at all. It didn't interest me in the slightest. The sort of music I liked was the kind you heard in coffee shops and sketchy clubs, not the kind you danced to in a poofy, sequined dress. Unfortunately, I had bought a dress just like that a whole three days before ending things with Jacob, and my mom insisted that she wasn't going to just throw those hundreds of dollars away. I was going to that prom even if I had to go alone.

Over lattes at the little coffee shop he had been dying to show me, I lamented my situation to Taylor, and he presented me with what he thought was a perfect solution.

“I'll be your prom date.”

I stared at him, feeling my eyes widen in disbelief. “Aren't you leaving for New York like the day before my prom? To see Hannah before you go to France or whatever?”

“I'm supposed to,” he replied with a dismissive shrug. “I could change that plan and fly out a few days later with everyone else. You need a date, right? Why can't it be me?”

“Because you would be canceling plans with your girlfriend to do it? It's not right, Tay.”

“Making you happy is always going to be right, Lady,” he said softly.

 

_May 5, 2001_

I asked every other guy I knew in Tulsa. It was hardly even an overstatement to say that. Most of my guy friends either already had dates or other plans that didn't involve rented tuxedos. I couldn't really blame them, and I wished I could join them for those other plans, whatever they were.

When all of my other options – besides Taylor, because he wasn't an option at all – had been exhausted, I mustered up all of my courage and called Zac. He said yes.

Zac only had his learner's permit, but I had my driver's license, so we arranged for me to come to his house and leave in Isaac's car with Zac driving. I'm not sure how we convinced Isaac to give up the keys to his brand new car, but I was glad we did. Otherwise, we were stuck with my mom's Jeep or the old Hanson family van. I'm sure it didn't matter to Zac; I got the distinct idea that he really didn't have much interest in impressing anyone at Will Rogers. What did Zac care about high school kids, after all? We only talked once or twice before the prom so that I could tell him the color of my dress and how to get to my house, and he never seemed all that excited about the prom, but I was so grateful that he'd agreed to come anyway.

We only danced once the entire night. For most of the night, we sat awkwardly at the table with my friends, dodging questions about whether or not we were dating. We weren't. I liked him, I decided, but only as a friend. His personality was similar to Taylor's in some ways, but different, too. I wasn't sure what I liked better about him – how much he reminded me of Taylor or the ways they differed. We barely made more than small talk while my friends danced with their boyfriends and dates, and finally I'd had enough of it. Some country ballad started playing and I forced Zac onto the dance floor.

It felt wrong to be in his arms. There was an awkward distance between our bodies and it only served to remind me how much younger Zac was. I knew he had seen plenty of the world and probably experienced things I couldn't even dream of, but in his suit and tie, swaying awkwardly on the dance floor, he really looked like a kid. I didn't know what had ever made me think I could date him.

My least favorite thing about the prom was how no one even stayed that long. By eight o'clock, the room was practically empty. Zac and I hadn't discussed where we were going to eat dinner, I realized. A lot of people made reservations for dinner after the prom, but we hadn't even talked about possible restaurants. I noticed Billie and her date gathering their things to leave and I asked where they were going.

“Fleming's,” she replied. “It's probably going to be packed, though, but you can follow us there and hopefully we'll all find a place to park and a table.”

I cast a glance at Zac for his approval, and he just shrugged. It wasn't a ringing endorsement, but I supposed it would have to do. Fleming's wasn't exactly cheap, but I supposed that sort of thing didn't matter to a Hanson. 

Zac followed my directions there carefully, but I could see he was nervous about driving downtown. It was raining, and we nearly lost sight of Billie's car several times before pulling into the maze-like parking lot of Utica Square where Fleming's was located. He chewed his lip nervously as he searched the parking lot, looking for Billie's red Mustang.

“I don't see her,” Zac said. “Can you call her?”

“We're not all rich enough to have cell phones,” I replied, trying to make a joke out of it so that I would stay calm. It only barely worked. “I don't have one and neither does she.”

“Oh,” he said. “So I guess it wouldn't even help to offer you my phone?”

“Afraid not.”

Zac steered the car into an empty parking spot – the _only_ empty one, as far as I could tell – and put it into park. He turned to me and raised an eyebrow. “So, what do we do now?”

“I don't know,” I replied, feeling my bottom lip quivering and hating it.

I really, really didn't want to cry over something so stupid as this, but I _had_ been ditched. There really was no chance at all that this prom would be perfect, but this was just the last straw, the final reminder that it was so far from perfect as to almost be laughable. That is, it might have been laughable if I hadn't been crying.

“We could go somewhere else,” Zac offered.

“But where?” I asked, sniffling. “I didn't even ask Billie where they might go if they couldn't get into Fleming's.”

“So? We don't have to go where they're going.”

I could tell Zac was getting annoyed with me just sitting there crying, no doubt getting tears and mascara all over my dress and the brand new upholstery. I realized that I couldn't go into a restaurant looking like that, but there was no way I was going to go home so early without even eating dinner. I had to keep up some semblance of normalcy and pretend that this had been the prom night I wanted.

“What about...” Zac began, chewing his bottom lip and looking as though he would claw his way out of the car if necessary to get away from my sobbing fit. “What about Taco Bueno? There's one a couple blocks from here... I know how to get there...”

It was anything but an ideal after prom dinner, but it had been anything but an ideal prom night. I pulled a tissue from my tiny, sparkly purse and tried to dry my tears before turning back to Zac. “Yeah, alright. Why not?”

“We can just go through the drive-thru,” he offered, with the tiniest hint of an apologetic smile.

“Yeah,” I said. “Alright. And umm... thanks.”

“No problem.”

It definitely wasn't perfect, but I refused to let myself think about how it could have been different.

 

_June 9, 2001_

Prom night was the last time I spoke to or even saw anyone with the last name Hanson for over a month. Taylor and I always seemed to miss each other's instant messages. That sort of thing was bound to happen, though, considering he was on the other side of the Atlantic Ocean. I waited patiently for him to return, hoping we would have some quality time together before I left for college. I didn't know what the rest of my summer would hold, but I wanted to see him before it was over and I moved away.

I went to Riverfest with Chelsea in hopes of seeing Taylor. I knew they were performing, but I hadn't actually told him I was coming – the opportunity hadn't presented itself – so I didn't know for sure if I would see him any closer than from the audience. 

Chelsea was an expert at wiggling her way through audiences to find the best spot; it was why I loved going to shows with her. Just before Hanson took the stage, she gripped my hand and practically ran through the crowd, squeezing in between people until we were situated right in front of Taylor's piano. He glanced out at the crowd, but I wasn't sure that he saw me. Zac, however, gave me a knowing nod when our eyes met.

They played a bunch of songs that I knew well-–or well enough, for someone who had never really considered herself a Hanson fan – but there were a few that I didn't know, too. I realized as the concert went on that this was the first time I'd seen them in concert since they were just three little boys singing old doo wop songs. I'd made fun of them then and for years after, because I was just too cool to like a _boy band_ , but I realized then that they were anything but. I couldn't help being drawn to Taylor, transfixed by the way he poured his heart and soul into the songs. It didn't even mar the performance when his voice cracked, no doubt a side effect of the cigarettes I kept asking him to give up.

_It doesn't matter_  
_You've got all that you need_  
_It doesn't matter_  
_You take everything you see_  
_It doesn't matter_  
_You've got anything you please  
_ _But you don't have me_

_Why do you close your eyes so tight_  
_When you're kissing him goodnight?_  
_You make believe a face  
_ _Just to try to fill the space_

_Wake up, and tell me it's alright_  
_Wake up, 'cause I just wanna hold you tight_  
_Wake up, and tell me it's alright  
_ _Don't you ever wonder what you're looking for?_

I had to turn my head away as he sang. Even though he still hadn't looked my way, it felt like he was staring right through me. Worse than that, it felt like everyone in the audience must have known he was singing about me. I knew that was silly; they couldn't possibly know. But still I felt my cheeks growing red as all my sins were laid bare on the stage.

_Let me in your heart_  
_Give up, give out, give in, is where it starts, yeah_  
_Dreamin' is not so hard  
_ _Once you've found your shooting star, yeah_

_Let's stop wastin' time_  
_Let's stop wastin' time  
_ _Say you're mine_

Chelsea shot me a knowing look and I gave her a gentle shove. I couldn't be angry at her for pointing out what I already knew. Taylor was singing about me, and I hated it. I wanted to hate him, too, but I couldn't.

When their performance was over, Chelsea took my hand again and pulled me through the audience. I was beginning to think she was a super spy; she knew exactly where to find their hidden little spot backstage. Somehow, we weren't stopped by any sort of security, and soon I saw the crowd of Hansons gathered around a van relaxing. The little kids were running around, playing and giggling. I had met most of them, but didn't quite remember their names. The others were leaning against the van or sitting in fold out chairs. Zac noticed me first and gave me a nod and a wave.

“Ade!” He called out. “I didn't know you were coming.”

“Surprise,” I said, giggling. “Umm, where's Taylor?”

Zac's face darkened and he glanced off to the side, over my shoulder. He didn't have to say it for me to know Taylor was behind me. I spun around and felt my heart drop to the ground. Taylor was walking up, his arm wrapped tightly around some girl. I recognized her as Hannah; he had sent me a picture one day in his excitement to tell me about her. 

“Hey, Lady,” Taylor said as soon as they reached out side. “This is my girlfriend, Hannah. Hannah, this is Adelaide. The one Zac went to prom with, remember? I told you about her.”

Was that all I was to him? Just Zac's prom date? I forced myself to smile, but I couldn't find it in myself to offer Hannah a handshake.

The five of us made small talk for a few minutes, but I don't think a single word of it penetrated my mind. I was intently focused on Taylor and Hannah's body language and the way they kept looking at each other. I didn't know why it bothered me so much, but I was finding it hard to deny that it did.

“Lady, can we talk for a minute?” Taylor asked, cutting through my thoughts.

I had vaguely registered that Hannah had wandered off with Zac to get hot dogs or something. As soon as Taylor asked, before I could even answer, Chelsea mumbled something about catching up with them. Then she was gone, leaving me with no choice but to talk to Taylor alone.

We stood in awkward silence for a moment before Taylor asked, “So, you're leaving for college soon, aren't you?” 

“Not for a few months. It still seems so soon.”

“You'll be fine,” he said. “You'll love being out on your own.”

“Yeah, I guess... I mean, I hope so,” I replied, forcing a smile. “You guys are leaving even sooner, aren't you?”

“Next week,” he said with a nod. “We'll be in LA probably the rest of the year, trying to get this new album recorded.”

I nodded. “So... I probably won't see you again before you leave? I mean, you'll want to spend time with Hannah, right?”

“I can always make time for you, Lady,” he said.

I knew just from his tone of voice and the look on his face that he wouldn't. This was going to be our goodbye, at least for the next few months, maybe even until Christmas. 

“Well...” I said. “Just in case I don't see you again, can I have a hug?”

“Of course,” he replied, smiling. He swept me up into his arms, pulling me onto my tiptoes. 

I wished the hug could last forever, but all too soon, he dropped his arms. Seconds later, Hannah, Zac and Chelsea walked up, their arms loaded down with food. Hannah handed Taylor a root beer float and I felt my stomach turn at the little look they shared as their hands touched.

This really was goodbye, I realized.

> _Tell me if I'm in, in over my head_  
>  _Tell me if our future is just hanging by a thread_  
>  _I don't want to begin something I can't face_  
>  _If I'm destined for loneliness_  
>  _Send me on my way  
>  _ _On my way_  
>  \-- Out of My Head, Hanson 


	3. You Held Me Without Chains

_August 28, 2001_

__

__

> _“That's what real love amounts to—letting a person be what he really is. Most people love you for who you pretend to be. To keep their love, you keep pretending—performing. You get to love your pretense. It's true, we're locked in an image, an act - and the sad thing is, people get so used to their image, they grow attached to their masks. They love their chains. They forget all about who they really are. And if you try to remind them, they hate you for it, they feel like you're trying to steal their most precious possession.”_  
>  \- Jim Morrison

 

 **jporter82:** how's college treating you so far?  
**blue x skye:** it's alright. my roommate is kinda weird. i think she's gonna move out soon and i'll get a single room.  
**jporter82:** singles are definitely better. what about your classes and everything else?  
**blue x skye:** they're just classes, i dunno. not too hard yet but it's only been a week.  
**jporter82:** they'll get harder, but as long as you study you'll be alright  
**blue x skye:** yeah i guess. all studying and no partying, right?  
**jporter82:** don't tell me you've started partying already  
**blue x skye:** not really. i mean, sitting around and drinking with a few friends is hardly a party  
**jporter82:** that's not so bad  
**blue x skye:** i know, i know. you don't party at all. you're a good kid.  
**jporter82:** partying isn't going to get me into med school  
**blue x skye:** good thing i don't want to be a doctor, then  
**jporter82:** i just worry about you, though. the way your dad is...  
**blue x skye:** i'm not my dad, jacob.  
**jporter82:** i didn't say you were, but there is a genetic disposition toward that sort of thing  
**blue x skye:** so i just have to be careful. i'm just having a few drinks, not downing a full case of beer myself, okay? i'm fine.  
**jporter82:** okay... just please be careful  
**blue x skye:** i will. i promise.  
**jporter82:** so lawton's not really that far from oklahoma city, is it?  
**blue x skye:** no it's not really. closer than it is to tulsa.  
**jporter82:** so a weekend visit would be pretty easy  
**blue x skye:** it wouldn't have been that difficult no matter where in oklahoma i ended up, jacob  
**jporter82:** i know, i know. i just didn't think about it.  
**blue x skye:** no, i guess you didn't  
**jporter82:** i'm sorry  
**blue x skye:** okay  
**jporter82:** so... maybe this weekend?  
**blue x skye:** i don't know. i'm going home for labor day, i think  
**jporter82:** the weekend after?  
**blue x skye:** yeah, okay

 

_September 7, 2001_

Jacob and I had gone out once over the summer, when I was desperate and missing Taylor. I didn't know why I agreed to it. I was fairly certain there was no way the two of us could ever get back what we had before. When we kissed, it was awkward and nothing like it had been. It seemed to only prove my theory that our relationship was over. Yet when he asked if he could visit me—if you could even call it asking—I couldn't say no. I wanted to believe that things could be different this time, that now that I was at college we could have a fresh start.

My roommate Lisa went home for the weekend, and I knew Jacob read far too much into the fact that we would have the room to ourselves. He didn't plan to stay the night, since it really wasn't a long drive and he was a good boy, but I could still hear a certain something in his voice when I told him she would be gone. 

Despite dating for a year, Jacob and I had never gone all the way. Everyone assumed we had. My friends pressed me for details, but I had little to nothing to tell them. My mom put me on the pill as soon as she came to terms with the fact that I really was leaving for college. It felt awkward to tell her I had no use for it yet, but even more awkward to tell her that I probably _would_ need it the future, so I just went along with it. I figured it was better to be prepared than not. Who knew what college might hold for me? It was just another source of disagreement with Jacob, though. Evidently, despite all our fooling around in his backseat, he thought we were waiting until marriage. I hadn't even been sure I really wanted to marry him. Then it all ended anyway.

But now he was on his way to visit me for the weekend, and there had been serious hints that he had certain plans for the visit. As soon as I got out of class for the afternoon, I rushed to shower, fix my hair and makeup and put on a new shirt and my favorite jeans. I feel silly dressing up so much for my ex. If nothing else, I figured I would remind him of all that he let go.

If he noticed all my effort, he didn't feel the need to comment on it. The only thing he _did_ feel the need to comment on, it seemed, was how small Lawton was compared to Tulsa and Oklahoma City. Sure, it was smaller. But why was that a bad thing? Tulsa had never seemed all that large anyway, not after spending my entire life getting to know it inside and out. And I'd never been very fond of Oklahoma City. I didn't say as much, but I was pretty sure Jacob was just trying to hint that I'd made the wrong decision about college. I disagreed, though. I liked Cameron and I liked Lawton. I liked my life.

We had a boring dinner and watched a totally forgettable movie that neither of us really had any interest in, but it was the only one playing at the tiny movie theater we stumbled upon. We really hadn't planned the date very well, and I suppose it was because the primary thing on our mind was what would happen once we were back in the dorm.

All too soon, we were there. Neither of us said a word as I checked him into the dorm and led him to my room on the second floor. The rooms were tiny, so we had to loft our beds, and Jacob laughed at the fact that I needed a step ladder to climb into mine. He hoisted himself onto it easily, and wasted no time with small talk before climbing on top of me and slipping his tongue into my mouth. It wasn't as bad as it sounds. It almost felt like it used to, when we would sneak away and make out in his car. The difference now was that we were alone. There was no one to interrupt us and no curfew.

Jacob slid a shaking hand under my shirt and I hoped he didn't notice how much I was shaking, too. Then again, what did it matter if we were both nervous? It would be strange not to be nervous about losing your virginity, I thought. At the same time, I didn't understand why this was such a big step to take when we'd done so much already. Why was this such a big deal? Yet... it was.

Despite our shaking hands, we still managed to remove each others' shirts fairly easily. Jacob's hand made its way to my bra while mine found its way to his pants, fumbling with his belt buckle until he gave up on my bra and helped me. Once he undid his belt and unzipped his pants, I slipped my hand inside, blushing so much I couldn't bear to meet his eyes. This felt wrong. We weren't even dating anymore. Or were we? I didn't know what this meant at all. Would this change everything? I had no answers for myself.

A loud knock at the door made us both jump. I was certain I'd locked the door, though. A second later, a booming voice called out, “Campus Security!”

My heart leaped into my throat, and Jacob looked equally as scared. He scrambled away from me and scurried to button his pants. I jumped off the bed, foregoing the step ladder entirely and wincing when my feet hit the floor with all my weight behind them. I grabbed my shirt from where it had landed and yanked it over my head.

I unlocked the door just as the security guy knocked again, and opened it just a crack. I had signed Jacob in, but I was still embarrassed to let him be seen on my bed like that. I had no doubt it was totally obvious what we had been doing.

“Yes?” I asked, staring up at the imposing figure in front of me.

“Do you drive a 1999 Mustang?”

I blinked. “Umm... no.”

“There's one in the parking lot with its alarm going off. Just trying to find the owner.”

“Oh,” I replied. It wasn't Jacob's car either, but I didn't see the need to point that out. The officer didn't seem to have noticed him. He didn't even glance over my shoulder into the room, nor did he appear to care about my rumbled shirt and hair. 

“Do you know who that might belong to?” He asked.

I shook my head. “No, I don't think so.”

“Okay. Well, thank you.”

With that, he was gone. I shut the door and locked it again, then leaned against it, pressing my forehead to the wood. The moment was ruined, of that I was sure. The spell Jacob and I had been under was broken. I took one glance at him and I could see from the look on his face that he felt the same way.

There was no going back. What we'd had was over.

 

_September 18, 2001_

**eightyeight88:** so, how's college? i'm sure it's agreeing with you  
 **blue x skye:** not as much as los angeles agrees with you  
 **eightyeight88:** i used to like it more. these days it's just full of record label drama.  
 **blue x skye:** what's the label doing now?  
 **eightyeight88:** hating every song we write based only on the fact that we wrote them. but they can't tell us who they want us to be, only that it clearly isn't who we are.  
 **blue x skye:** don't you dare change who you are for them, taylor  
 **eightyeight88:** never dreamed of it, darling  
 **blue x skye:** what will you do, then? just keep writing and hope they like it eventually? i don't know how this stuff works  
 **eightyeight88:** no one does. not even the douchebags in charge of it.  
 **blue x skye:** fair enough  
 **eightyeight88:** we'll figure something out, i'm sure. we're too stubborn not to  
 **blue x skye:** can't argue with that  
 **eightyeight88:** enough about me. how is college, honestly?  
 **blue x skye:** boring, especially compared to your life  
 **eightyeight88:** no wild parties? no orgies? all those college movies lied to me  
 **blue x skye:** not wild parties, no. some drinking. definitely no orgies.  
 **eightyeight88:** don't lie, i'm sure there are dozens of college men just falling at your feet  
 **blue x skye:** not really. a few, i guess. dumb jocks, mostly. and jacob came to visit...  
 **eightyeight88:** oh, did he? i didn't realize you were still speaking to him  
 **blue x skye:** i'm not anymore. it was a mistake.  
 **eightyeight88:** say no more  
 **blue x skye:** not like that! well sort of like that, but not what you're thinking, i'm sure  
 **eightyeight88:** i'm not thinking anything other than what you've told me  
 **blue x skye:** right. and i'm sure there are no women in your life, either?  
 **eightyeight88:** none to speak of, really. hannah's on the other side of the country, so i think we knew that was never going to work out.  
 **blue x skye:** no other girls throwing themselves at you?  
 **eightyeight88:** i wouldn't say throwing, no. michelle's been out here working with us, though  
 **blue x skye:** michelle?  
 **eightyeight88:** branch, you know. we played a couple concerts with her last year.  
 **blue x skye:** oh, with that one song? yeah, i know her  
 **eightyeight88:** she reminds me of you. not her looks, of course, but something about her  
 **blue x skye:** so you've got an adelaide substitute?  
 **eightyeight88:** i wouldn't put it that way, but i suppose. if i cuddle with her, can i consider it cuddling with you by proxy?  
 **blue x skye:** ...no, i don't think so  
 **eightyeight88:** that's a shame. maybe i'll have to cuddle with the real deal the next time i'm in oklahoma.

 

_October 14, 2001_

   
To: TaylorHanson@hanson.net  
From: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
Subject: You.

You, sir, need to get your ass to Lawton to visit me. No ifs, ands, or buts, except for your butt being here. Any questions?

* * *

 

To: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
From: TaylorHanson@hanson.net  
Subject: Re: You.

You know what... I could go for a road trip that's not to LA. I could also go for some Lady, too.

I'll jot you down on my "to do" list, if you know what I mean. ;-)

* * *

 

To: TaylorHanson@hanson.net  
From: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
Subject: Re: Re: You.

Road trips are always great. This weekend, although it may be a bit short notice, is some sort of fall festival thing here. This is such a small town compared to Tulsa.

You're still in Tulsa right now, aren't you? It's barely a three hour drive here...

* * *

 

To: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
From: TaylorHanson@hanson.net  
Subject: Re: Re: Re: You.

Oh, are you wanting me to come in this very weekend?

* * *

 

To: TaylorHanson@hanson.net  
From: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
Subject: Re: Re: Re: You.

Well, whenever you get a chance. This weekend could be fun, since it's that festival but any weekend will do.

* * *

 

To: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
From: TaylorHanson@hanson.net  
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: You.

Well, I don't have any plans for this weekend, yet. I'll let you know the closer it gets.

* * *

 

 

_November 30, 2001_

A month and a half.

After six weeks and five days of nothing I was forced to accept the fact that Taylor wasn't coming to visit me. Worse than that, he wasn't even _speaking_ to me. I knew he'd returned to Oklahoma at some point, but news was hard to come by, so I had no clue if they'd gone back to LA or off to some other location entirely. No one really seemed to know, or they just weren't telling me.

The message was coming through loud and clear, though. Taylor didn't want to see me.

Lisa moved into her own room not long after Jacob's visit, leaving me with an entire double room to myself. I lived in constant fear that some transfer student would be moved in, but it never happened. I had my own sanctuary where I could stay up all night wallowing in my worries and doubts, only sleeping for an hour or two if I was lucky before my classes began for the day.

When Taylor and I had planned for him to visit, we made it very clear that it was going to be an overnight trip. I considered telling him to bring pillows and blankets for the extra bed that was just a stripped mattress covered in my books and papers. But I didn't. I knew that if he visited, we would share my bed. We would cuddle, like he said.

And I had a very strong suspicion that we would have sex.

We were both still virgins—a fact that I found surprising to learn about him—but we seemed to agree that it wasn't some huge obstacle to overcome. It didn't define us. My fellow college student seemed to disagree, though. And so I wanted that label gone. 

When I imagined that weekend with Taylor, there was no doubt in my mind that it would involve sex. And I was fine with that. I decided that I wanted my first time to be with him.

But he didn't visit. Six weeks and five days, and he didn't speak a single word to me.

The period between Thanksgiving break and finals week was strange. Professors seemed disinclined to assign much reading or any real work that wasn't related to their final exams, so there really wasn't much to do that didn't inspire serious procrastination. I had plenty of time to do all the work I'd been unable to do during my long nights awake and paralyzed by worry. 

The rest of campus seemed to agree with me. Everyone was in a constant state of party during those days before finals. The dorm hallways smelled of beer, and more than once I woke up still drunk from the night before. 

I had graduated from a few drinks with friends to real parties. It was an easy transition to make. My best friends on campus, Sarah and Melanie, were older and knew all the upperclassmen who held parties in their off campus apartments. I wasn't very well known or popular on campus, but my newfound ability to hold impressive amounts of liquor in my relatively small body was earning me quite the reputation. It was good to be known and liked for something, I supposed.

I left one of those parties arm in arm with a boy from my biology class. I couldn't remember his last name, and I was fairly certain he had a girlfriend, but he was cute. A few years older than me, I was sure, but he didn't balk at the idea that I was still a virgin the way boys my age seemed to. He took things slowly and seemed eager to make sure I enjoyed myself.

And I did. Even though I was certain, when I saw them together a few days later, that he really did have a girlfriend.

Three more times I sneaked away in the middle of the night to his apartment. I'd gotten a cell phone as a graduation present, so I always texted him to be sure his girlfriend wasn't going to be around. I knew what I was doing was wrong, but I found that I didn't care. College was the right time to do bad, scandalous things, I told myself.

I hardly even cared that I'd lost my virginity to a guy I didn't love. It was easier that way. It was just _gone_ , leaving me with more important things to worry about. 

Such as why I still hadn't heard from Taylor. 

 

_December 11, 2001_

"Have you guys heard the new stuff Hanson's working on? Taylor sent me some demos a while back and I didn't get around to listening to them at first, but they're pretty damn good," Eric said between bites of his sandwich.

It was strange to come home from college to all my friend from Tulsa. It seemed nothing had changed, when really it had. We were all going off in different directions and I didn't really like my direction, but I put on a good face, I thought. Mostly they talked, and I only commented when they directed a question to me. The comment about Hanson reminded me of how much I missed Taylor, though.

I spoke up. "That reminds me, I haven't heard from Taylor in a while. Have any of you guys talked to him or the others?"

A weird silence descended over the table. I had hit a nerve and I didn't know why, but I could feel it. Eric stared at Chelsea, who mumbled something to Billie. It seemed they were all debating on whether or not to tell me something. I'd feared he was dating Michelle, even though he swore he wasn't. Or maybe he had gotten back together with Hannah. Anything was possible.

Finally, Chelsea looked right at me and I steeled myself to deal with the fact that he'd probably fallen in love with someone else by now, and I'd lost my chance.

"Umm... Taylor didn't want us to tell you, but... he has cancer."

I couldn't even speak. I saw red at first, angry that he didn't want me to know. Then that anger was replaced with sadness and fear. So this was why he couldn't make the drive to visit me. It wasn't a girl or his career; it was his life. He might be _dying_. I felt petty and childish for thinking he'd abandoned what we never had for someone else. 

I didn't finish my lunch. 

 

_December 20, 2001_

“We have sad news to report on this edition of Entertainment Tonight. Taylor Hanson, most well known as one third of the band Hanson, has announced today that he is undergoing treatment for a rare form of bone cancer known as Ewing's Sarcoma. Taylor will receive treatment in his hometown of Tulsa, Oklahoma while the band takes a short break from recording their third studio album. The band want to assure their fans that, pending Taylor's release from treatment, they will continue recording and touring as always, and they look forward to releasing new music as soon as next year. If fans would like to send him any gifts, Taylor has asked that they instead make donations to St. Jude's Childrens Hospital or another charity of their choice. All of us here at Entertainment Tonight wish him the best and a full, speedy recovery.” 

> _You say you want to kill yourself_  
>  _It might make it just a little bit easier_  
>  _You think you're the only one who hurts_  
>  _Try looking just a little bit harder_  
>  _I don't know why you're holding on  
>  _ _To the damage that's been done_
> 
> _'Cause you've got me wrapped up in your illusion_  
>  _I keep on trying to change your conclusion_  
>  _But you've got me wrapped up in your illusion  
>  _ _I keep on dying 'cause you're busy wasting life  
>  _ \-- Hanson, Your Illusion


	4. Settled Into The Glass Half Empty

 

_December 28, 2001_

 

 

> _The sky's a blur_  
>  _My drug my friend_  
>  _Sometimes you can't avoid the lonesome bitter end_  
>  _She's breathing in some nicotine_  
>  _And when she's down_  
>  _She'll drown this town in kerosene_  
>  \-- Hanson, End of the Line

 

To: TaylorHanson@hanson.net  
From: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
Subject: We need to talk.

So... any particular reason why I had to find out from our friends and then fucking Entertainment Tonight that you have cancer?

* * *

 

To: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
From: TaylorHanson@hanson.net  
Subject: Re: We need to talk.

Of course there's a reason. Did you think I wouldn't have a reason, Lady?

I know you. I know this is freaking you out, and I know it's hurting you. And I thought I could save you some of that hurt, somehow, if you didn't know. Obviously you would find out eventually, but I was buying myself time. Time to figure out how to tell you myself that at eighteen years old I'm facing my own mortality.

For what it's worth, I'm sorry.

* * *

 

To: TaylorHanson@hanson.net  
From: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
Subject: Re: Re: We need to talk.

Okay, I don't not understand that. It makes a sort of sense. It still hurts, though. I just wish you could have found a way to tell me before I opened my big mouth and asked someone why it had been so long since I'd heard from you.

I guess this means you won't be visiting me at college any time soon?

* * *

 

To: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
From: TaylorHanson@hanson.net  
Subject: Re: Re: Re: We need to talk.

I know, Lady. And I am so, so sorry. It shouldn't have happened that way. None of this should have happened the way it has.

You wouldn't want to see me like this, darling.

* * *

 

 

 

_January 3, 2002_

Despite what I told Taylor, I didn't understand it at all.

I spent the rest of my Christmas break in a haze. I slept scandalously late, not even caring when my mom came into my room in the afternoon and yelled at me for still being in bed. I just couldn't find it in me to care about anything.

That lack of caring extended to my classes, of course, and was reflected in my final grades for the semester. Neither of my parents were particularly impressed when I logged onto the school's website and looked up my grades. They had wanted to see this brand new online feature, but I dreaded it. I had only actually failed one class, but that was one too many, even if it was just a sociology class that I could retake or replace with some other elective. It was the principle of the matter, I supposed.

Neither of them really knew how to handle my bad grades, though. There had to be some explanation, they reasoned, but couldn't agree on what it was. I offered them little; the truth was more than they wanted to hear, and “I can't sleep at night” wasn't enough, it seemed. I didn't know what else to say. The college algebra class had been somewhat hard, but my unimpressive grade in it was based on lack of attendance, not lack of comprehension. How could a former straight A student explain that to her parents? How could I tell them about the nights I'd laid in bed until 6am, unable to sleep no matter how hard I tried? Or the times when I went to class wearing pajamas under my hoodie and smelling like last night's alcohol?

I couldn't tell them about any of it.

One evening, Dad came to my bedroom and sat awkwardly on the edge of my bed. I couldn't even remember another time when he'd been in my new bedroom in the four years since we'd finally finished the upstairs remodel. It felt strange to have him there. He rambled for a while, telling me about his own college calculus class that he'd had to take twice before ultimately flunking out of college anyway. I think he was trying to tell me that he understood and could read between the lines of what I was telling him. Or maybe he was just drunk. I could smell beer on him, a smell I'd become even more familiar with since starting college.

The conversation didn't help very much.

 

 

_January 16, 2002_

**From the horse's mouth**  
_Posted by TaylorHanson_

Hey all you Hanson.net members.

I just want to extend a huge thank you to everyone who has offered me their support in the past few months. This has been a very trying time for myself, the band and our family. But I've always said that we have the greatest fans in the world, and you guys continue to prove me right over and over again.

I know you guys want to show your support by sending me gifts, and those are very appreciated. We've made no secret of the fact that we donate many of the gifts we receive to local charities and hospitals. Those kids need dozens of teddy bears and legos far more than we do. Now I'm one of those kids. Most of the others being treated for my particular type of cancer are children, and they are all so much more brave than I could ever be. We've started hand delivering a lot of those gifts to them, and I want to let all of you fans know just how much your gifts have brightened my days and the days of all these kids.

So I guess the choice is yours. Keep making kids in one Tulsa hospital happy, or find a way to send your gifts to kids somewhere else in the world. They may not know who you're thinking of when you do it, and I may not know you've done it, but that's okay.

There will be more details on the website soon about a benefit concert being held on my behalf by a few of our friends here in Tulsa. Ashley is organizing that and I think he should be posting some information on the forums for anyone who wants to attend or donate (to charity, not me). I hope that I'm feeling well enough to put in an appearance at the concert.

Once again, thank you guys so much for everything you've done for us. Ike or Zac should be posting some album news soon as well, because I'm not letting a little thing like cancer get in the way of the music. We've got some clips of new songs that I think you guys will really like, and those will be on the website soon.

 

 

_February 2, 2002_

My birthday had never been much of an event. Even when I tried, it didn't really work out the way I wanted it to. When I was in elementary school, I'd had a few parties impeccably planned by my mom, with practically everyone in the entire grade invited. It felt wrong, though, especially once I realized that I wasn't all that popular. Once I realized that few if any of the party guests really cared about anything other than the cake and party games, I opted to just spend my birthdays at home, sharing a small cake with Mom.

Now that I was at college, I had hoped to have something more of a birthday party, but I wasn't really sure how to make it happen. Mom decided to bake me a large cake that I could share with my friends. Since my actual birthday fell on a Monday, she could bring the cake to me that Sunday and take me out for a little dinner, just the two of us. It seemed like a good enough plan, so I told Sarah and Melanie about it and they took me shopping—since I still didn't have my own car—for chips, sodas and whatever else we might need at the party.

I struggled to drag myself out of bed and get dressed before Mom arrived. She wasn't coming that early, but I'd become accustomed to sleeping in so late on the weekends that I was lucky to have time for a shower before the college's cafeteria opened for dinner. I'd scheduled all of my second semester classes later in the day, but I still tended to skip out on them when I felt like it. Even with a better schedule, being awake before noon on a Sunday hurt.

Mom arrived exactly when she said she would. It was a short drive from campus to the Mexican restaurant I'd asked her to take me to for my breakfast lunch. She didn't really care for Mexican food, but she'd agreed to it, since it was my birthday. As soon as we arrived, I dove right into the chips and salsa. I decided I would have to tell Melanie about this place. There was a Taco Bueno near campus, but even it had nothing on this restaurant. Maybe she and I could find time to come out here at some point. I knew I was a burden, though, making her drive me everywhere, but there wasn't much I could do about it as long as my parents couldn't agree about whether or not I needed a car.

“So,” Mom said, not touching the chips herself. “I was thinking about going to visit Aunt Joan in Kansas, and maybe looking for a house there.”

Mom's family was originally from a small town outside Wichita, and for whatever reason, she'd always missed it. I didn't really get it; Kansas looked just like Oklahoma to me. Just a lot of grass and cows. She missed it, though, and we often went up there to stay at these little campgrounds near some of the parks. I wasn't surprised that Mom wanted to find a more permanent place to stay when we visited.

“Okay,” I replied, scooping a bunch of salsa onto a chip.

“Your Dad's not coming with me.”

Now I understood. She wasn't looking for a vacation home. She was getting a divorce.

“Am I coming with you?” I asked.

“If you want,” she replied. “You should probably stay with your dad, though, at least on paper. That way you can keep your in state tuition.”

It was all so matter-of-fact. I wondered how long she had been planning this. When dad's drinking got really bad while I was in middle school, I had assumed that their marriage couldn't possibly last much longer. I figured they would hold out until I left for college. Christmas break had been good, though, at least where their relationship was concerned. They almost seemed happy. I had thought being alone, without me to deal with, was doing them some good. Evidently not.

“He got arrested for a DUI last month,” she said, as though that explained everything. “He's pleading not guilty, and he's got this whole story about some friend of a friend driving his truck for him. Supposedly this guy—of course he doesn't remember his name—got out and ran after pulling over for the cops. It's just ridiculous.”

I could only nod. What did she expect me to say to that? It did seem like a ridiculous story, but there was a part of myself that always wanted to defend my dad when she complained about him. He was my father, after all. She could just leave him, but I didn't have that option.

By the time our food arrived, I didn't have any appetite at all. Some birthday.

 

 

_March 3, 2002_

I can't say that I ever really expected my first Spring Break to be like the movies. If I couldn't even manage a decent birthday, I didn't think Spring Break would be much better. Rather than try to make some sort of plans that I knew wouldn't work out, I just let my mom come and pick me up to spend a week at home.

Home.

I didn't think it would even feel like home anymore, with Mom already in the process of moving out, and it didn't. We had never been a loud family, but now the house was even quieter than usual. I stayed locked up in my room as much as I could, avoiding any possible conversations about my grades or the strange burgundy shade I'd dyed my hair on a whim the week before.

When I did emerge from my room, I was immediately hounded by requests to see my midterm grades. Mom had done her best to check up on me during the semester, as much as she could from three hours away. Every time, I had lied my ass off. When she demanded to see my grades, though, there was nothing I could do. She stood over my shoulders and read the online report card—three Ds and two Fs—then stormed out of my room, screaming about how I was just like my father.

Minutes later, I cautiously walked downstairs to find her throwing suitcases into the back of her car. I didn't stick around to ask where she was going.

The next day, my aunt Joan called to inform me that Mom had made it safely to her house, but it probably wasn't safe for me to talk to her. She assured me it was just a midlife crisis and things would be fine, but I didn't really agree. Whatever it was, it meant I was alone at the house with my dad, who seemed to be spending even more of his time drunk than he usually did.

By the middle of the week, I was going insane. I was stuck there at the house with absolutely nothing to do, and we were very quickly running out of food. Dad was apparently in the habit of getting dinner at the golf club on his way home from work, so he didn't notice how bare our cabinets were. When he came home one evening and then immediately left again with a friend from work who reeked of beer and was far too friendly with me, I saw my chance. I left a note that I was taking his Jeep, not sure if dad would really be able to read it by the time he returned, and set off for the grocery store.

Somewhere along the way, I got sidetracked and found myself heading for Brookside. I remembered that it was the night of the benefit concert for Taylor. I hadn't wanted to go, even though Mom had mentioned it over and over. I didn't know what I would say to him if I saw him again. It just felt awkward. But without thinking about it, I found myself parked near Barkley's as thought that was where I'd planned on going.

Barkley's wasn't a very big place, so I knew I wouldn't be able to avoid Taylor if he was there. I didn't even know if he was well enough to attend the concert. What if he wasn't? What if he looked different? I almost talked myself out of going inside entirely, but finally, I did.

Admiral Twin were already on stage when I walked inside. They were pretty well known around town, and were one of the only bands playing that night who I was familiar with at all. A few of our mutual friends were playing, I thought, but I didn't spot any of them. I didn't see _anyone_ I knew in the crowd. I supposed these were all Taylor's friends, few of whom I had actually met.

Barkley's only served drinks, not food. I didn't think a soda would do much to curb my appetite, but it was my only option. I swirled my straw mindlessly in my drink as I sat alone at the unoccupied table I'd managed to find near the stage. I guess not many people wanted to sit so near the music, but I didn't mind if it gave me a headache. Over the past few days, I'd gone from crying my eyes out to feeling strangely numb, so I doubted I would even notice if the music made my ears bleed.

“Adelaide!” A voice called out during a quiet moment between songs, and after glancing around, I matched it to Zac. He slung himself into the other empty seat at my table. “I didn't know you were here. I'm glad you came.”

I shrugged. “Seemed like the thing to do.”

“I'm sure Taylor will be happy when I tell him I saw you,” Zac replied.

“Isn't he here somewhere?” I asked.

Zac shook his head. “No, he umm... he wasn't really feeling up to it. I'm standing in for him, I guess.”

“Oh,” I choked out. I should have been relieved, but a part of me wasn't.

Just then, another band I didn't recognize took the stage and began playing loudly. Zac leaned across the table so I could hear him. “Hey, do you want to get out of here? We could get something to eat and talk, maybe?”

“Yeah,” I replied, although I wasn't entirely certain he wasn't asking me out on a date. I didn't think so, though. He and I had seemed to agree after the prom that we really were just friends. I gave him a small smile. “That's a good idea, actually. I'm starving.”

A few minutes later, I pulled the Jeep into a spot at the Sonic down the street. Zac had suggested a few other sit down restaurants nearby, but I didn't feel like dealing with any sort of crowd again. Besides, I figured there was a good chance that Hanson fans would be lurking around anywhere we went. What would they think about seeing Zac Hanson alone with the girl he'd taken to prom just a year before?

“So, this is kind of familiar,” Zac remarked after the waitress took my money, handed me the food and skated away.

“How so?” I asked, then it hit me. “Oh, us sitting in a car eating. Yeah, I guess it is.”

“I know that whole night was really awkward, though. I'm sorry.”

I shrugged. “It wasn't your fault. My life was kind of an awkward mess then. But when isn't it? I guess I could have worse things to complain about though...”

We fell into an awkward silence then. It felt wrong to complain about what I was going through when I knew Zac's brother was in the hospital fighting _cancer_. I hadn't really ever known anyone with cancer, except for my grandmother, but I was too young then to understand what was happening to her. All I knew was that one day she was fine and then she was in the hospital and I couldn't see her. Then she was gone. I didn't want Taylor to just be gone.

“Umm,” I cleared my throat. “This is probably really awkward to ask, but... how is Taylor? I mean, I know he's sick but... well, I don't really know any more about his condition than any random fan would, and I hate that. I just want to know how he's really doing, you know?”

Zac's eyes widened a little. “You haven't talked to him?”

“No, just a few emails,” I replied.

“Oh,” he replied. “Well, umm... he's still going to be getting chemo for a few more weeks. He should be finished with it next month, if everything goes well. That stuff's really hard on your body, you know, so there's all these other side effects, and if it's too hard one week, then he can't get the treatment the next week. So far it's all gone pretty well, though. Not like he would tell us if he wasn't doing well. That's kind of how we ended up in this mess to begin with, I guess.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, he'd been getting really tired and out of breath for like a month, and none of us thought anything of it. We'd just tell him to lay off the cigarettes and he'd laugh it off. Everyone had been pretty down about all this record company crap, anyway, so our minds were on that. But before we were supposed to go onstage at this charity thing, he just totally spaced out. He wasn't asleep, but we just couldn't get him to get up and eat anything. The boy's skinny, but he puts away food even worse than I do, so we knew something was wrong. Mom finally forced some water and half a slice of pizza into him, and he got through the show... then passed out as soon as we got backstage. We took him to the hospital right away, and they found a tumor on his ribs, pressing into his lungs. It wasn't just exhaustion making him so tired—he really just couldn't breathe.”

It was a lot to take in. I just stared blankly at Zac and nodded.

“You know,” he said, his voice so low I could barely hear him. “This kind of cancer... Ewing's sarcoma, it's this really rare bone cancer. Usually just little kids get it, and only like 10% of them even survive. Taylor's trying to be positive, but...”

He didn't need to finish the sentence.

We ate the rest of our food in silence, and then I drove him back to Barkley's. He gave me a hug and promised to tell Taylor he'd talked to me. I told him he didn't need to tell Taylor about all that he'd told me, and he promised that he wouldn't. I didn't know if I would hear from Taylor after Zac talked to him, but I wasn't holding my breath.

I didn't go back into the concert. I didn't think I could. I drove on down the road, tears falling freely down my face. It was a good thing I knew my way around because I could barely even see the road. I steered the Jeep into a Food Lion parking lot and sat there for a long time, until I ran out of tears. Once I did, I went inside and finally bought the food that had been the whole reason I'd left the house in the first place.

 

 

_March 17, 2002_

**Thanks**  
_Posted by TaylorHanson_

I just want to say a huge thank you to everyone who attended the benefit concert in Tulsa last week. It also served as something of a birthday party for me, even though I wasn't able to attend. Birthday cards and gifts are still pouring in at the house and the hospital where I've spent so much of my time lately. It's not exactly how I imagined spending my nineteenth birthday, but a guy could do worse than having so many friends and fans who want to show their support and love.

We're hoping to make a short trip out to LA in the near future to keep pushing forward on the album. When I have more news about its progress I will let you guys know. I can assure you that I'm definitely getting a lot of writing done these days. Isaac even brought a guitar to my chemo session a few days ago and we let the other patients watch our creative process in action. When this album is finally released, we're going to have a little documentary of the entire process so that you guys can see it, too.

More music news soon, I promise.

 

 

_April 14, 2002_

I barely went to back to class at all after spring break. I managed to drag myself to the few I was still passing, but only on test days or when the syllabus told me a paper was due. I didn't really care if I did well. I didn't even care if I passed. But if I didn't leave my room at all for the rest of the semester, my friends were bound to notice.

How could I ever explain any of this to them? They all knew that my parents were divorcing, and none of them really seemed to get why that would bother me so much. After all, I was an adult. Trying to explain how my mom had kicked me out of the house she didn't even own yet... it sounded horrible and unbelievable, so I just didn't tell anyone.

Melanie and I got a lot closer as the semester went on. She had a bad habit of skipping classes, too, so she didn't bat an eye when she saw me still in bed at one in the afternoon. I liked Melanie. She was over twenty-one, so she indulged my growing appetite for alcohol, too.

She had a million different boyfriends and guys she swore were just friends, and a bad habit of inviting me along when she wanted to hang out with them. It was awkward, but if she promised me food and alcohol, I couldn't refuse.

One of her guys, I think his name was Brandon, lived in an apartment off campus. A cloud of thick, strange smelling smoke drifted out when he opened the door to let us in. I soon tracked it down to the pipe one of his friends was holding. I'd never known anyone who smoked pot before, but I wasn't stupid enough not to recognize it when it was right in front of me.

I was, however, unable to refuse it when that nameless friend passed it my way as soon as I sat down on the couch.

From her spot next to me, Melanie whispered instructions on how to smoke it. I inhaled long and hard, like she said, until I felt it burn the back of my throat. With my lips held shut, I passed her the pipe and waited. And waited some more. It felt like liquid fire flowing down my throat, and when it hit my lungs, I couldn't stop myself from coughing. A few people chuckled, then assured me it would get easier in time.

When the pipe came back around, I took another hit. The second one went down more smoothly and I barely coughed at all. With each pass it made around the room, it seemed to get easier and easier for me. Soon I was drifting off in a haze, unable to focus on whatever movie it was we were supposed to be watching on Brandon's grainy old television set.

I felt numb. I liked it.

 

 

_May 24, 2002_

**Music news**  
_Posted by TaylorHanson_

Hey Hanson.net people! As Ike said on the Hotline a few weeks ago, happy two year anniversary to the fan club, and a huge thanks to each and every member.

I have some music related news for you guys today. As you know, we've been recording away on the album as much as we can. Usually we do a lot of recording in Los Angeles, but most of this album has been recorded right here in Tulsa in our very own, top secret studio. Okay, it's not so top secret. But it is right here at our house, so it's very convenient.

Anyway, I'm happy to announce that we've finished this album. After recording dozens and dozens of songs, we've picked the ones that we think are the absolute best and now we're just putting on the finishing touches. I can't make any guarantees about when this album will be released, but we are definitely aiming for a date in the fall of this year. This delay will ensure that I'm able to get out there and promote it as I would like. What would a Hanson album be without a big world tour to go with it? I know you hate waiting, but I promise this album will be worth it.

We'll be posting some more pics, videos and audio clips in the coming weeks to give you guys a look at the album we've been slaving away on. So stay tuned for that.

 

 

> _“I became insane, with long intervals of horrible sanity.”_  
>  ― Edgar Allan Poe


	5. A Whisper In Your Ear

_July 13, 2002_

> _“In secret we met -_  
>  _In silence I grieve,_  
>  _That thy heart could forget,_  
>  _Thy spirit deceive._  
>  _If I should meet thee_  
>  _After long years,_  
>  _How should I greet thee? -  
>  _ _With silence and tears”  
>  _ ― George Gordon Byron

 

**Still trucking**  
_Posted by: TaylorHanson_

I think that's the motto for my entire life right now. I wish I had more actual news to report to you guys, but I really don't have anything you haven't heard before. Ike already explained a lot of the music stuff on the Hotline a few days ago and gave you guys some insight into the technical side of things, so I won't repeat any of that. There's just so much that goes into making an album besides recording the songs. We're still hoping to release the documentary we've been filming of this album process when the album itself comes out, and it'll help you guys see what we're talking about, all this behind the scenes stuff.

Then there's my health. I'm nearing the end of my adventure with chemo, but it's a one week at a time sort of thing. At this point, it feels like my side effects have side effects, and I never know from one week to the next how I'm going to feel. It's an uphill battle, for sure, but I know I'm nearing the top of the peak. What's on the other side is yet to be seen, but I've got high hopes.

 

_July 28, 2002_

I devoured books that summer. It was pure distraction, something to get my mind off the divorce and college and all these things that seemed to be out of my control. I worked my way through the giant library of books I'd accumulated, then started on my dad's. I would have read mom's as well, but she was quickly moving her things out of the house and into storage at Aunt Joan's while she looked for her own place.

Mom only visited me a few times during the summer, and those visits were cleverly disguised as trips to get more of her stuff out of the house. Week after week, the house I'd grown up in became more and more empty and unfamiliar. When she'd finally removed everything she wanted, Mom handed over the keys to her car and explained that she had already had the title and insurance switched over to my name. I just stared blankly at her as she waved from the passenger seat of my uncle's truck, its bed loaded down with bits and pieces of my childhood.

My sleeping habits didn't improve much over the summer, and my eating habits only worsened. There were a few awkward trips to the grocery store with Dad, but mostly I just slipped out when I could steal his Jeep and bought whatever junk food caught my eyes. If I only ate a giant bag of potato chips all day, so what? It wasn't a balanced meal, but I couldn't find it in myself to care. I ate and read late into the night until I finally gave in to exhaustion and slept until the afternoon.

One day, though, the phone woke me up in the morning. I vaguely recalled that Dad hadn't left as early as he usually did for work; his alarm clock usually went off before I'd even passed out. That was the main reason that the phone call struck me as odd. That, and the fact that no one called us. I pulled myself from my bed and shuffled to the desk where my phone rested. My phone didn't have a caller id, so I had no choice but to take the gamble and answer it.

“Hello?”

“This is a collect call from an inmate at Tulsa County Jail,” a mechanical voice said, and I nearly hung up the phone. Who on earth would be calling me from the county jail? I got my answer seconds later when my dad's own voice answered me, mumbling his name softly and sounding a million miles away. The recording clicked back on soon after. “Press 'one' to accept the charges.”

I pressed one.

There was a click, and then a long, static filled silence before I heard Dad's voice again. “Adelaide? Are you there?”

“Yeah...”

“I need you to go into my bedroom and get a hundred bucks out of the box in the dresser. I'm sure there's enough in there. Then come here and tell them you need to pay the rest of my bail.”

It was all so matter of fact, and it made my head spin. “What... what happened?”

“Apparently my lawyer no longer practices law, and no one at all felt the need to inform me of that, or that there was a bench warrant out because I missed my last court date for that DUI. So I showed up today expecting to get it all cleared up, and they handcuffed me as soon as I set foot in the courtroom. So can you just find the money and get down here?”

“Yeah,” I choked out. “I'm just going to take a quick shower and I'll be there as soon as I can.”

A little less than an hour later, I'd showered and found Dad's secret stash of money, and I was on my way across town to the courthouse. The jail was attached to the back of it, so I was sure that somewhere inside, I could find someone who could help me get my dad out.

It took several trips up and down the elevator, but finally, I was standing in front of a woman behind bulletproof glass, sliding a crisp hundred dollar bill into a little slot. Once she had my money, she pressed a button that made the door behind me unlock, and she told me to go inside and wait. The room was dark and bare except for one bench in the center of the room. On the far end was a door and a big glass window that showed a small lobby sort of room. I assumed that room was the only thing between me and the jail itself.

A few minutes later, a police officer lead my dad into that room and I watched as he put his belt back on and slipped his wallet and cigarettes back into his pocket. I wondered if Dad was as humiliated as I was just watching him being treated like some criminal. Then again, I supposed he was, even if he didn't look like one in his silk dress shirt and khakis. I had the strangely amusing thought that he was probably the best dressed guy in the jail.

The officer escorted him out into the waiting room and I stood up quickly. For a moment, Dad and I just stared at each other.

“So, I guess you found the money?”

“Yeah,” I replied. “It's a good thing Mom gave me the CR-V last week...”

Dad only nodded, making quick strides toward the courthouse doors. “Well, I've got to get to work, since I've already missed the half day I put in to miss.”

We went our separate ways then, driving out of the parking lot in opposite directions. I took the long way home, just because I could. I had nothing else to do. As I drove, I could only wonder when and how this had become my life.

 

_August 13, 2002_

To: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
From: TaylorHanson@hanson.net  
Subject: lady

I hear you're going back to college soon. Had my summer not been spent entirely in hospitals, perhaps I could have seen you. Now you're leaving again, while I'm out and about. Not only that, but actually leaving Tulsa again. Imagine that.

Isn't it funny how those things work out?

* * *

 

To: TaylorHanson@hanson.net  
From: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
Subject: Re: lady

I do believe it's the sort of scenario Alanis would have called ironic. Whether or not that's a proper use of the term irony, I'm not so sure.

When will you be back in Tulsa? Although, I have no clue when I will. My summer has been... blah. My parents officially split up in June, and I've been back and forth between the two of them (in Tulsa and fucking KANSAS) the whole time. The upside of it all, I suppose, is that I now have a car. Mom spent a chunk of the divorce settlement on a new one for herself and left me her little CR-V. It's kind of shitty, but hey, it's a car.

So, out of the hospital? This is good news, right?

* * *

 

To: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
From: TaylorHanson@hanson.net  
Subject: Re: Re: lady

I'm sorry to hear about your parents. That's... tough. All of this has been tough on mine, though I'm sure I can't relate to going through an actual divorce.

Being out of the hospital is good, yes. I'm hesitant to say more than that right now. There are all sorts of tests and things still to be done, and I certainly don't feel like myself yet. But I'm getting there.

We've been working in New York for a while, and talking about getting an apartment there if and when my health permits. That seems to be where we're going to find the most help getting this album out finally. Even when I'm back in Tulsa, it might not be for long. Will keep you posted.

* * *

 

To: TaylorHanson@hanson.net  
From: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
Subject: Re: Re: Re: lady

I'm hesitantly glad to hear the news about your health, then, I guess.

As far you when you're in T-Town... well, I may need plenty of advance warning. Things in my love life are strange and complicated right now. That's all I can really say about that. I don't know where I'll stand with some people when I get back to college.

* * *

 

To: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
From: TaylorHanson@hanson.net  
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: lady

No worries. I'm not entirely single myself ;)

* * *

 

 

_September 8, 2002_

I considered myself lucky to only be on academic probation for my sophomore year. I'd spent the whole summer in fear that the college would decide I was such a horrible student that they didn't want me back at all. That was overdramatic, I knew, but I still cried myself to sleep nearly every night in fear of the next morning. When I got the letters telling me about the academic probation and my housing assignment I let out a huge sigh of relief.

The Village was an on campus apartment complex, which gave me my own private bedroom yet again. I still had to share the living room, bathroom and laundry room, but that was alright. Melanie was supposed to be one of the girls sharing with me, but she had randomly decided to transfer and Sarah was an RA that semester. It all amounted to me rooming with a bunch of girls I didn't know and felt awkward around, but I tried to be social. That usually meant drinking. When I was drunk, I didn't feel so awkward. It wasn't long before our apartment got the reputation of being the place to come to party, and we had more than a few close calls with campus security. 

One of the fixtures at the parties was a guy named Marcus. He was a freshman, and he reminded me of someone, but I couldn't quite figure out who. He played drums in the college band and you only needed to take one look at him to know he smoked a lot of pot. I'll admit, that was a big part of the attraction.

There was a really nice secluded spot in a strange corner of the apartments where someone would have to be looking really closely to even notice us. Marcus had found the spot, and while it still made me a little nervous to be so out in the open, I didn't know where else to go to smoke. My mom was speaking to me again, but usually only to pass along gossip about the sleazy women she'd heard Dad was dating. Between that and trying to drag myself to class every day, I figured I'd earned the right to smoke up every now and then.

A strange thing happened when I got fucked up. Pivotal transitional moments seemed to vanish from my memory. The moment I moved from the couch to the floor, for example. Or the events leading me to bed with Marcus. It seemed like a natural enough progression after smoking a bowl together, but I can't really remember. One moment we were just friends, and the next, his hand was under my shirt.

The next day, I applied my makeup extra heavy to cover the bite marks on my neck and tried not to blush when I stared at him across the cafeteria table. I was certain everyone around us already knew, though. 

 

_October 15, 2002_

To: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu, aleksu@yahoo.com, alex_ander@hotmail.com, ashleygrayson@hanson.net, brokenbracelet@hotmail.com, clickhereforangie@hotmail.com, churchyarddog@hotmail.com, csabec@hotmail.com, dgarza@hotmail.com, elvishasleft@yahoo.com, greg@gregwells.net, jarrod@admiraltwin.com, johnnywas@hotmail.com, matt@matthewsweet.com, mh@markhudsonmusic.com, sam@phantomplanet.com, wadeh1999@hotmail.com  
From: TaylorHanson@hanson.net  
Subject: Health news

Mass email time!

I want to give this news to everyone I'm close to first. I'm sure I've left several off this email, so I'll probably be sending it out again to others. When you get the chance, please give me a call so you can hear the words actually leave my mouth. If you don't get through to me, leave a voicemail and I'll call you back later, I promise. My number is the same as always, but in case you've lost it, it's 918-425-6745.

Thanks, everyone.

* * *

 

 

_October 17, 2002_

I got Taylor's email in the morning before class and had to wait until the afternoon to call him. I didn't have any time in between my morning classes, and I felt strange about calling him when Marcus was around. That was silly, I knew, but I hadn't explained him to Marcus yet. We were officially dating, but there was so much about my life that he didn't know or understand. It was just easier to call Taylor when I was alone, so I waited until Marcus was in band practice.

The phone rang and rang, and finally I had to accept that Taylor wasn't going to answer. I left him a voicemail anyway. He was probably taking dozens and dozens of calls, and I couldn't remember if I'd ever actually given him my cell phone number. Chances were, he didn't even know it was me. 

I didn't hold my breath for a return call, but after almost an hour, my phone rang.

“Hello?”

“Hey, this is Adelaide, right? I didn't have your number in my phone. It's Taylor.”

“Yeah,” I replied, suddenly feeling breathless. “Umm... you had some news?”

“I did,” he said, his voice soft. “It's gone. The cancer, I mean. The doctors say I'm completely cancer free, and they don't think it will ever come back. That's how it usually goes with this cancer—either the first time kills you, or it never comes back again. So I'm... I'm okay, I guess.”

“I guess you are,” I replied, letting out a sigh of relief. “That's... really great, Tay.”

“Yeah, it really is. Well, I've got like a dozen more phone calls to make, so I've got to cut this short.”

“Alright. Bye.”

“Bye, Lady.”

If he hadn't used my nickname at the end, I would have felt like we were practically strangers. I was certain he'd rehearsed what he was going to say, and everyone got the same message. Why should that bother me? He had probably been on his phone the entire day. There was nothing special about him calling me. 

I wanted to feel special, though.

 

_November 1, 2002_

**Good news**  
 _Posted by TaylorHanson_

I would actually call this great news, in fact. I hesitated to post about either of these things publicly, but I think it's time.

First, I am absolutely, 100% cancer free. Of course, anything can happen, but the doctors tell me that there's very little chance of it ever returning. I've been out of chemo for quite a while now, and slowly telling everyone the good news while I regained my strength. 

Now that my strength is back, it's time for us to really dive back into the recording. We've been traveling around in the past few weeks, mixing and mastering the album in Boston and New York. For the foreseeable future, we're going to be in New York, pushing and pushing to get this album out to you guys. I know I promised you guys would have it in your hands this fall, and that would have been an amazing way to celebrate my other news, but sometimes these things take longer than you planned. 

As always, we will keep you guys updated. Hope you've all got some great plans in the making for Thanksgiving. I know all of us certainly have a lot to be thankful for this year.

 

_December 3, 2002_

My roommates were determined that eventually, the four of us would be friends. They didn't seem to notice that I spent most nights in Marcus' room. He had a single room, and even though it was in a regular dorm, I still found more peace and quiet there than in my apartment. It didn't hurt that his smoke detector didn't work, so we could smoke out his second floor window with little fear of being caught.

Spending the weekend holed up in his room with the dime bag we just bought sounded like a perfect plan to me, but once again, my roommates had a different idea. 

Since it was getting close to Christmas and we had an actual living room, they decided that we needed decorations. I let them go out shopping on their own to pick them out, handing Geri a twenty before she rounded everyone up and left. I didn't really have the money to throw around, but since I hadn't chipped in at all for our last “apartment dinner” it seemed like the least I could do. 

A few hours later, I was lured out of my room by the scent of espresso in Jen's fancy new machine and apple cider. I took the cup that she offered me and savored the way it warmed my hands before taking a sip of the warm, tart drink. As I sipped it, I glanced at the mess they'd made of our living room. It wasn't a big room, and now it was covered in blue and green ornaments and peacock feathers.

“Peacock feathers?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

Geri nodded. “Mhm, that was the theme we decided on.”

“Theme?” I echoed.

“Yeah,” Nicole piped up, barely glancing my way as she strung plain white lights around the tree they'd already assembled without me. “My family always does a theme. It just looks so tacky when people just put whatever mismatched ornaments on the tree, don't you think?”

“Ugh, and colored lights,” Jen added. “Especially the flashing ones.”

“And those tinsel icicles!” Geri added, giggling.

I kept my mouth shut. They had just described every Christmas tree my family had ever had. I always loved our trees. The twinkling lights dazzled me when I was little, and I loved the stories that went along with all our ornaments that we'd collected over the years. My grandmother had bought me a new little angel each year, and my mom showed off her artistic abilities with various craft projects that adorned the tree. I thought our Christmas tree was beautiful.

As I stared up at the ridiculous peacock feather monstrosity my roommates were constructing, I realized that I would never see _my_ Christmas tree again. Left to his own devices, I was sure my dad wouldn't even bother with one. Would mom? I didn't know. She had only just found a house to move into, and even though I'd promised to visit for Christmas, I couldn't imagine it would feel much like a holiday surrounded by unpacked boxes.

Christmas, for me, was over.

I slipped back into my room while my roommates were debating where to hang the largest balls, and they didn't even notice. I was glad. A few tears had already fallen into my cider, and I really didn't want to explain to them why I was having a complete breakdown over Christmas decorations.

 

_January 2, 2003_

“This is Kurt Loder with an MTV News special report. Just months after announcing that his cancer is in remission, Taylor Hanson of the band Hanson has landed himself in the hospital for a different reason. Sources tell us that the middle Hanson brother was admitted to a Hamptons, New York hospital in the early hours of January 1st following a car wreck on his way home from a New Years Eve party. No other vehicles were involved and alcohol is said not to have been a factor. No other details about his condition have been released at this time. A representative for the band has assured us this will not delay the band's plan to release new music later this year.”

 

> _A fair amount of disbelief, these walls are killing me_  
>  _I don't want to be here, anymore_  
>  _Speak your mind, or speak your peace, I swear we're sinking deep_  
>  _Well I don't want to wind up on the floor  
>  _ _I don't want to be here anymore_
> 
> _The sky is falling all over again, just another day's conclusion, another disillusional night_  
>  _The sky is falling all over again, am I losing my composure, or way too much exposure to compromise?  
>  _ _Well I can't take all these walls  
>  _ \-- Hanson, These Walls


	6. Feel The Bridges Burning

 

_January 17, 2003_

 

 

> _“I've lived too long with pain. I won't know who I am without it.”_  
>  ― Orson Scott Card, Ender's Game

 

 **Never boring**  
_Posted by: TaylorHanson_

My life never is boring, is it? Aside from all the things that come along with traveling the world, recording music and all of that, I still manage to find ways to make things interesting.

I'm sure you've all heard all about my recent incident. It really wasn't as bad as it sounded. Some small animal ran out in the road, I tried to dodge, and I ended up in the ditch instead. I'm doing much better now, and getting pretty good at walking on these crutches. Amazingly, my only injury in the crash was my ankle, but it was absolutely shattered. So now I'm hobbling around, but I'm still moving. I've got to say, I'm really sick of hospitals – ha!

Very, very soon we're going to have some news to report about the new music we keep assuring you is coming soon.

 

 

_February 20, 2003_

I had a theory about relationships—specifically, about the end of them. It only happens one of two ways. It can be a gradual thing, with both parties seeing but perhaps not accepting that the end is near. When they do finally realize, it still might not end well, but it's the better scenario. The worst scenario is when only one person sees the end coming. Maybe the other person should have and maybe they shouldn't have, but either way, they get completely blindsided.

The end of my relationship with Marcus was the latter.

Looking back, I think I should have seen it coming. We argued more than we got along, but the arguments rarely turned serious, unless he felt the need to bring my family or my mental health into the equation. Other than that, fighting was practically foreplay for us. It certainly never felt like it was leading up to any inevitable conclusion. But maybe it should have.

The night that it happened was like any other night. We were holed up in his dorm room, taking furtive puffs off a bong he'd made out of a water bottle and an ink pen. His roommate was gone for the weekend, so we could get away with it if we remembered to open a window and spray a lot of air freshener.

“Did you go to the counseling center yet?” He asked between hits.

I shook my head.

“I thought you were going to this week.”

“I thought I was, too,” I replied, taking a long hit before adding, “but I just can't. I can't do it.”

“Why not?”

We'd gone around in the same circle over and over, but I didn't think he was ever going to get it. Marcus would never get the sort of pressure I grew up under. We were just different that way.

“It's just... my family, you know?”

“Yeah, they're the reason you need to go.”

I shook my head. “No. Well, yeah. But they're the reason I can't. Getting help for this stuff... admitting you have a problem... I mean, to my mom, mental health issues are just weakness. She actually said last year that if anyone had a right to be depressed, it was her—the divorce and everything, you know—and she was fine. The subtext being that everyone else should just be fine, too. As if we have the choice.”

“And that's bullshit,” he replied. “You know that's bullshit.”

“It doesn't matter to her what I know or what I think. She's made up her mind.”

Marcus shook his head angrily. “You're an adult. You don't actually have to do what she wants you to do.”

“Believe me, I'm not. And it's fine as long as she doesn't know about it,” I said, shaking the bong to illustrate my point about things that needed to remain hidden. “But if I go there, if I admit that there's something not right in my head, then yeah... at some point, she's going to find out. Even if she doesn't, we're talking about twenty years of this stuff crammed into my head... just the idea of _admitting_ it, saying I can't fucking do this, it's terrifying.”

By that point I was shaking and crying, so Marcus finally dropped the subject. We finished off his little handcrafted bowl, but it didn't make me feel much better. I hated smoking when I was already upset. Alcohol just intensified my emotions, and weed seemed to coat them in paranoia and agitation. Sometimes I wondered why I did any of that shit at all if it rarely seemed to fix anything, but I didn't remember how I dealt with my problems before all the substances. If nothing else, it was something to do so that the boredom didn't kill me.

“Ade,” he said with a sigh. “I think... well, I've been thinking for a while...”

I knew enough to know that anything that began with _I've been thinking_ couldn't possibly end well. But maybe that was just the paranoia talking.

“I'm just not sure this is really working.”

I was right. “What... what about it isn't working?”

“I think you just... you want more from me than I can give you.”

“What the hell kind of answer is that?” I asked.

Marcus ran a hand through his hair, and for a moment, I felt sorry for him. He was obviously struggling to find the words, and I knew I was his first serious girlfriend. “It's just, you know, this started out just for fun, I thought. And I thought I was okay with that, but then it got serious and I don't know... I don't know how to deal with that.”

“You know I never did any of that stuff just for fun, though. I mean, it was at the time but then later... it was never as good as a real relationship would have been.” It was the first time I'd admitted that, and it felt awful to say.

“Yeah,” he replied. “Well, I just don't know. I don't know what _I_ want out of a relationship. And it's probably not good for me to be in one until I figure it out.”

It all felt like excuses to me. There was probably some truth somewhere beneath the words that just sounded like lines, but I couldn't find it. I begged. I cried. I accused. But nothing could convince him that he didn't want to end it.

So then I screamed.

I left his dorm in a rage, carrying a bag full of everything of mine that I'd left in his room over the last few months. I wasn't sure if it counted as a walk of shame in the middle of the night, but whatever it was called, that walk back to my apartment was the worst walk of my life.

The worst part was that I had probably just proven him right and I knew it. I did seem crazy, emotions flying all over the place as I desperately tried to win him over. For the millionth time in the past two years, all I could do was wonder when this had become my life. When had I become this crazy, stoned girl, stomping across campus in her pajamas?

It wasn't until I made it back to my room and collapsed on my bed that I finally remembered who Marcus reminded me of.

Taylor.

 

 

_March 19, 2003_

To: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
From: TaylorHanson@hanson.net  
Subject: Hey gorgeous

How are you? Haven't heard from you in quite some time.

* * *

 

To: TaylorHanson@hanson.net  
From: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
Subject: Re: Hey gorgeous

Frustrated. That sums it all up, really.

* * *

 

To: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
From: TaylorHanson@hanson.net  
Subject: Re: Re: Hey gorgeous

Why are you frustrated?

Is no one telling you that you're beautiful, and they'd like to wake up next to you? ; )

* * *

 

To: TaylorHanson@hanson.net  
From: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Hey gorgeous

Your guess/joke/compliment was freakishly accurate. That is precisely why I'm frustrated. But I'm going to hang out with friends tonight and watch some movies, so that may balance things out. We'll see.

* * *

 

To: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
From: TaylorHanson@hanson.net  
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Hey gorgeous

Take it as all of those... I meant it, however you needed it. Hope that levels it out.

* * *

 

 

 

_June 17, 2003_

**California here we come**  
_Posted by: TaylorHanson_

In just a few hours, we'll be on a plane to California. It feels absolutely amazing to say that, although it is hard to leave New York. After a year, it's really starting to feel like home. At the same time, it's wonderful to know that we're finally going to get back out there and do what we do—play music!

That's right. We've got some radio things lined up, as well as performance at a show to benefit an AIDS organization called LIFEBeat. It's going to be our first time getting out there and playing some of these songs for people other than record executives and my fellow patients who got to hear some very, very rough demos. Now we're doing it all on our own and finally getting back to you guys, the fans. I speak for the entire band when I say that we have missed you guys so much, and we're so grateful for all you who have stuck by us through everything that's happened in the past two years.

 

 

_July 1, 2003_

I spent a big portion of the summer at my mom's. It was boring as hell, but I didn't really care. None of my friends in Tulsa seemed to ever be home and willing to hang out, so what was the point of being there? I had even gotten so desperate that I tried to call and email Taylor, but I never got any reply. He was probably out of town. I knew they were releasing an album soon, and I was pretty sure he was seeing Hannah again.

I didn't know why that bothered me so much.

My parents were both starting to date, too, which was far stranger than I could have imagined. Mom was talking to some guy she had dated in high school before meeting my dad, which was weird in and of itself. The idea of my mom once being a teenager who went on dates and was just generally a normal teenager... it did not compute. Before leaving for a date one day, she had the audacity to ask me how far she ought to go on the first date. I just stared blankly at her, which prompted her to ask how far I usually went. I declined to answer that one, too.

And then there was my dad.

I had heard plenty about the woman he was supposedly dating, despite the fact that he had felt no need to mention her to me himself. Like the other three DUIs he'd managed to pick up at some point, I guess his girlfriend was just a minor detail that I didn't need to know. Eventually, though, he called and asked me to come home so that we could be properly introduced.

It went every bit as well as I expected.

When I came home and walked into my bedroom, I had the distinct impression that someone had been in my room. Dad never bothered to go in there, so I knew it wasn't him. I couldn't even say for sure if anything had been moved, but something just felt off. Even a person who has no sense of organization at all can tell when the chaos they live in has been disrupted. Since it was just a feeling I had with no evidence to back it up, I didn't mention it to Dad.

I had dreaded the drive back to Tulsa, so I'd left late and taken my time. It didn't matter, anyway. Misty—yes, my father was dating someone named _Misty_ —wasn't there when I arrived, and wasn't expected for several hours. At some point after dinner, I got tired of waiting. I was holed up in my room, watching tv in my pajamas, when I heard Dad yell to tell me she was there.

My aunt and cousins who lived nearby had tried to warn me, but their descriptions hadn't come close to truly capturing Misty Dawn Bowman. She was practically young enough to be my sister, at only thirty-two to my dad's fifty-four, but she didn't look it. Her skin was freckled and scaly like a lizard, and while I couldn't say for certain that her long black hair was a wig, I was willing to take my cousin's word for it. She was crammed into jeans that were at least two sizes too small and had little rhinestone accents along the pockets. At least her pink tank top coordinated with the giant butterfly tattoo on her chest. That was the best thing I could say for her.

She apologized for taking so long to arrive, explaining that it was because she'd wanted to buy me a few gifts. I tried to be gracious as she handed over a set of fluffy pajamas and a shirt with a giant glittery butterfly. Evidently Misty Dawn had a thing for butterflies.

The conversation that followed was easily the most awkward conversation of my life. She asked about college, my interest, my love life—anything that came to her mind—but seemed to zone out as soon as I attempted to answer. She called my dad Davey. _Davey_.

When she called me a “natural beauty” and followed it up with comments about how I really ought to let her do my makeup, since I obviously didn't wear any, I decided it was time to call it a night. She made me promise to let her do my makeup in the morning, and I shuddered to think what I would look like once she was finished, if her own raccoon eyes and frosted lips were any indication.

I didn't sleep at all that night. I'd never before been so bothered to have a bedroom located directly below my dad's. It had never been a problem before. Never before could I have imagined that he would bring a girlfriend over, and that their voices—only talking, thank god—would keep me awake into the early hours of the morning.

Even though it was late, I sent Taylor an email that night. I needed to vent to someone, and something about Misty reminded me of the awful girls he'd told me about Isaac bringing home.

He didn't reply.

 

 

_August 23, 2003_

To: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
From: TaylorHanson@hanson.net  
Subject: Tired?

You're really really tired? At least, according to your away message.

If you want to, you can come and sleep with me. Of course, I'm in Minnesota, so it'll be a bit of a drive.

p.s. In all seriousness though... how was your week?

* * *

 

To: TaylorHanson@hanson.net  
From: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
Subject: Re: Tired?

Oh no. I am not driving anywhere else tonight. I just barely survived a three hour round-trip I shouldn't have even made, to take my ex-boyfriend home for the weekend.

My week started out strange, and then got worse. Now I have some combination of a cold, allergies, strep throat, and a stomach virus. We'll see if I live until next week.

* * *

 

 

 

_September 7, 2003_

**On the road again**  
_Posted by: TaylorHanson_

Man it feels good to be touring again! It's one of those things that you don't even realize you're missing until you're out there again, speeding across the country in a tiny little bus. Playing concerts for you guys is what it's all about. Knowing that I've always had the music is what has kept me going through some of the lowest of lows. Being able to share that music with you all now makes it all worth it.

It's been a long hard, road to get us here, and me in particular. I'll be honest, there were times when we didn't know if this album would ever happen, but there's no doubt about it now. Even if I had to wheel myself onstage and every concert was a battle, I would be out there, giving you guys everything I had. Some days are harder than others, but at no point during this tour so far have I regretted getting back out here.

At some point in the very near future, we'll be doing a press conference so we can talk about the upcoming full length album in more detail. For now, I hope you guys are enjoying the acoustic EP and the shows we've been playing.

 

 

_October 17, 2003_

To: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
From: TaylorHanson@hanson.net  
Subject: hey

Hey there... How's life?

* * *

 

To: TaylorHanson@hanson.net  
From: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
Subject: Re: hey

Life is hectic. Trying to get everything ready to go back to college now that fall break is over. Burning awesome mix cds to keep me from going insane on the drive to school. Other than that, nothing particularly interesting is going on. How are you? We haven't really talked in forever, and I don't know if that's my fault or yours.

* * *

 

To: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
From: TaylorHanson@hanson.net  
Subject: Re: Re: hey

Can we attribute the lack of contact to... everyday life?

Or do I need to bring my career and health into it? Both of those complicate things a bit.

I'm back on the road, and life is alright. Hectic as well, but I'm giving less than a damn about most things, as things with the new album are looking good. We've finally started our own label and put a little acoustic EP out before the full album comes out. I foresee lots of fortune and fame, some awesome road trips, and probably some awesome nights of drinking in my immediate future.

* * *

 

To: TaylorHanson@hanson.net  
From: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
Subject: Re: Re: Re: hey

Everyday life does seem to get in the way, doesn't it? If it weren't for life, I'd have time to live. Hmm.

Your health? Are you okay? I hope nothing serious has happened, or re-happened, or anything.

I'll be back at college Sunday, and I really can't wait. I think I'd heard something about the label and EP business.

* * *

 

To: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
From: TaylorHanson@hanson.net  
Subject: Re: Re: Re: hey

Oh, my health and life... we could discuss it over dinner sometime... but I hear you're taken... so darn.

I'm doing fine, though. as far as I know, I'm 100% healthy. No cancer or broken bones (which is an entirely different adventure).

The label thing was a long time coming, and I think you knew that. We were just running into the same brick wall over and over again with IDJ, and frankly, my fragile little body couldn't take any more of it. Being on our own feels a lot better, physically and mentally.

* * *

 

To: TaylorHanson@hanson.net  
From: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: hey

Well, I hope you continued to be cancer and broken bone free.

Oh, I wouldn't say taken is entirely the appropriate term for what I am, regardless of what you've heard. It's a confusing situation, and is probably subject to change in a few days. I gave it another try with an ex, which is never a very good idea, and I should have known better.

I think you still owe me a road trip, though. Of course, I finally have a car, so I suppose I could be the one driving. Whatever gets you and me in the same place at some point before I graduate from college and you release that album and get too busy touring the world to have time for me.

* * *

 

To: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
From: TaylorHanson@hanson.net  
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: hey

Well, the album is likely to be out quite soon, and you still have a few years of college to go.

I'm up for it, anytime. We'll think of something. This is the first time in my life I don't have parents, doctors, or a girlfriend to be responsible to. And at the risk of sounding like a teenager again... I'm just glad to be able to do whatever the hell I want. haha

I know what you mean about the ex thing. Hannah and I gave it another try, and... well, it's a long story that I won't bother you with. So, yeah. Single is what I am. I'm a very happy, comfortable single, who is about to, as you said, tour the world, and so doesn't care what happens socially or romantically in the near future.

* * *

 

 

 

_November 13, 2003_

**Clearing the air**  
_Posted by TaylorHanson_

We wanted to make sure you guys heard the news here first, because I know a lot of rumors have been circulating and with that comes misinformation and exaggerations. I did collapse after our concert at the House of Blues in Chicago, and I am currently in the hospital. I'm resting comfortably and I already feel better, but all future plans have been put on hold thanks to my doctors.

As soon as the doctors say it's alright to travel, I'll be heading back to Tulsa for more and more tests, before we can say whether the worst case scenario has happened yet again.

 

 

_November 19, 2003_

CHICAGO (AP) - Taylor Hanson of the band Hanson has been hospitalized following a collapse backstage at a concert, his publicist said Thursday. After running a series of tests, his doctors have determined that Taylor has suffered a relapse almost two years after his initial diagnosis of Ewing's sarcoma, a rare bone cancer. Taylor will return to the family home in Tulsa, Oklahoma and receive an experimental cancer treatment for the next four months. Isaac and Zac will honor the band's commitments to appear at a few events before the end of the year. The Hanson trio, which includes brothers Taylor and Zac, had its biggest hit in 1997 when "MMMBop" helped ignite the boy band craze. They recently played Carnegie Hall as the final stop on their acoustic tour. They have started their own record label, 3CG records, and plan to release a new album in May.

 

 

> _“If you were Queen of pleasure_  
>  _And I were King of pain_  
>  _We'd hunt down Love together,_  
>  _Pluck out his flying-feather,_  
>  _And teach his feet a measure,_  
>  _And find his mouth a rein;_  
>  _If you were Queen of pleasure_  
>  _And I were King of pain.”_  
>  ― Algernon Charles Swinburne


	7. Brings Me Back To You

_February 17, 2004_

__

__

> _“The story is one that you and I will construct together in your memory. If the story means anything to you at all, then when you remember it afterward, think of it, not as something I created, but rather as something that we made together.”_  
>  ― Orson Scott Card, Ender's Game 

 

**The music lives**  
_Posted by: TaylorHanson_

It's strange how these things work out, isn't it? The theme of these last few years has most definitely been that _the music lives_. When everything else fails, when there's nothing else we can't count on... we still have our music. It's taken us a long time to get to the point where we have control over the music, and we can say when and how you guys get to hear it. 

And now here I am sitting in a hospital bed, yet again. In just a few days, the first single from Underneath, Penny and Me will be on the airwaves, and I'll still be locked up in here. I know it's been radio silence from me for the last few months, at least as far as letting you guys know how my health is. It's been rough this time around, and there have been some dark days. I can't sugarcoat it or pretend that isn't true.

But there's a light at the end of the tunnel, and it's the album release and summer/fall tour that we absolutely refuse to reschedule or delay any further. Even if I have to fight my doctors on this, I'm going to make it happen. For now, though, it's just one day at a time, until I'm finally looking at the world from outside these hospital walls again.

 

_February 21, 2004_

To: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
From: TaylorHanson@hanson.net  
Subject: Hi :)

You know how our plans to hang out always fall through? For the first time since we met, I've actually been in Tulsa for months at a time. And yet we still haven't seen each other. Isn't that funny? 

I'm so close, and yet I can't quite reach you. Of course, I'm not sure that you would let me touch you anyway...

* * *

 

 

_March 1, 2004_

To: TaylorHanson@hanson.net  
From: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
Subject: Re: Hi :)

I've spent a week or so trying to figure out how to respond to this. I still have nothing. I tend to be easily persuadable though, and you should know that. And you still owe me a visit from two years ago.

* * *

 

To: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
From: TaylorHanson@hanson.net  
Subject: Re: Re: Hi :)

Well, I'm glad that I didn't merit just a glance. I'm also glad that you've been thinking about it for a week or so. ;)

I'm heading back to Tulsa this weekend. Who knows what lies ahead for the rest of my spring and summer.

* * *

 

To: TaylorHanson@hanson.net  
From: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Hi :)

You always merit more than just a glance. You should know this about yourself by now.

I was actually in Tulsa just a few weeks ago, oddly enough. For a friend's wedding, if you can believe that. When I did get old enough to have married friends? I'm starting to feel like an old maid. You think I would make a good cat lady?

* * *

 

To: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
From: TaylorHanson@hanson.net  
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Hi :)

Now see... that just sucks. I'll likely be on the road for most of the summer anyways, though. Who knows?

Being a cat lady is better than being a nun. Some of the coolest old ladies are cat ladies. I know a few girls who are for certain on their way to that status, and maybe this is just me, but I'd date them happily.

I guess I just respect individuality in women I meet. It's not something your everyday guy does.

* * *

 

To: TaylorHanson@hanson.net  
From: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Hi :)

I'll likely be on the road quite a bit too, what with my parents living in different states now. Let's hope we can make our paths cross at some point?

Being a nun would probably require me to be Catholic, and I don't think I'm headed that way. I'll stick with my cats and if I'm lucky, maybe I'll find a guy who isn't allergic (to the cats or to me).

And no indeed, most guys don't. But no one ever accused you of being your everyday guy, and anyone who does would be sorely mistaken.

* * *

 

To: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
From: TaylorHanson@hanson.net  
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Hi :)

Thank you. You give the best compliments. "Standing Out" is so much better than "not fitting in.” Damn, this whole world has it backwards. haha

I think it would be fantastic if we were to cross paths at some point. I'm a cat person after all.

* * *

 

To: TaylorHanson@hanson.net  
From: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Hi :)

I give the best compliments? No darling, I believe that prize goes to you. Seriously.

I do too. Keep me updated on your tour/travel plans and we'll see what I can do. I love driving now and a road trip to see you sounds like double the fun.

* * *

 

To: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
From: TaylorHanson@hanson.net  
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Hi :)

Pssh. I haven't even begun to charm you, beautiful. Let's save the kind of talk for after dinner. ;)

I'll be sure to keep you informed... and myself available. I'm getting out of the hospital once and for all very, very soon.

* * *

 

 

_March 3, 2004_

I truly had opened and closed Taylor's email for a week before deciding to respond at all. Even when I did, I didn't know why or what I was doing. I hadn't spoken to him for months. I knew he had been in the hospital during that time, but even before that, we had seemed to drift further and further away. I was dating Marcus, he was dating Hannah, and it wasn't like we had ever really been more than friends, anyway. Whatever friendship had been there seemed further and further out of our reach.

So why had he contacted me again? And why had I replied? 

I didn't have any answers for myself. Someone else might as well have been moving my fingers for me, typing out messages telling him that I wanted to meet up after not seeing him for a whole three years. 

If I couldn't answer my questions, I knew who could. I pulled out my cell phone and searched through my contacts for Chelsea's number. As the phone rang, I paced my dorm room impatiently.

“Hey, Ade, what's up?”

“I have a situation.”

“Okay,” she replied, sounding confused. “What's going on?”

“Taylor emailed me,” I said.

“Taylor _Hanson_? I didn't know you guys were still talking.”

“We barely are. I mean, it's been months, he was back together with Hannah... then his cancer came back.”

“But you're talking now?”

I sighed. “Well, emailing. And even at that, it's not like we're _talking_. I mean, there's a little flirtation, but what does it mean? I don't know. But I think... I mean, we kind of talked about getting together, and we've talked about it before, but I think he's serious this time. We're really going to make plans.”

“Wow,” she gasped out. “So... is he, like, healthy now?”

“I don't know,” I replied, realizing just how much of Taylor's life I had missed out on. “He's getting out of the hospital, but I'm sure he's still not in the best shape. It's kind of scary, you know? To really think about... everything.”

“Yeah... so do you think it's going to be an actual date? You guys never went on a date before, did you?”

“No. We didn't even take your advice and kiss.”

There was a pause, and I was sure Chelsea was considering what she was going to tell me. “Okay. Well, I think you should do it.”

“You do?”

“Yeah,” she said. “I hate to be morbid, but let's face it. What if he doesn't make it? Anything could happen to anyone, but with Taylor, you've really got to consider that he might not be around much longer. What if you missed your chance? Could you live with yourself if you never took the chance on him and you never knew for sure what you guys could have had?”

It was a big, scary question, but I didn't even have to hesitate before I answered her.

“No,” I said. “I couldn't.”

 

_March 4, 2004_

To: TaylorHanson@hanson.net  
From: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
Subject: IM?

Say, how might I reach you more directly? Instant messenger of some sort, presumably the same username you had years ago? Phone number, although I'm usually awkward on the phone? Smoke signals? Anything?

* * *

 

To: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
From: TaylorHanson@hanson.net  
Subject: Re: IM?

Eh, I'm not reliable with my phone. It's a cell, and I never remember to carry it. I don't instant message regularly at all, either... I'm a drifter in cyberspace, aside from posting blogs on HNET. Long stays in hospitals and having no where to be for anything have let me lapse into an 'eat when you get hungry, sleep when you get tired' kind of existence. As such, I've got no idea when I'll be awake, much less near a phone...

I'll fix that once I get back home in a week or so. I'll actually want to be awake during the days, so I can go out and make plans with people.

918-425-6745, though I'm boring on the phone, too. I'm a message, or face-to-face kind of guy. I do have the same username, by the way.

* * *

 

To: TaylorHanson@hanson.net  
From: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
Subject: Re: Re: IM?

Well my phone is always on and I'm always available online in some fashion or another. My number is 918-425-7083, by the way.

Come to think of it, there's nothing keeping me here on the weekends. My Friday classes are only stupidly early morning ones. This weekend is a no-go, but will you be around next weekend? If so, I just might make the trip back home (though it feels less like it every time I'm there).

* * *

 

To: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
From: TaylorHanson@hanson.net  
Subject: Re: Re: Re: IM?

Better sooner than later, haha. Leaving it to chance over the summer, just didn't seem right. I like the idea of planning for next weekend better.

Thanks for the number, lovely. I'll be in touch on here, or over the phone and we'll see where we should meet up. You can come check out my new pad. And by new pad, I mean the pool house.

* * *

 

 

_March 7, 2004_

To: TaylorHanson@hanson.net  
From: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
Subject: weirdo :P

I didn't quite catch you online, but I saw your away message. Were those lyrics or something? Bubblicious? Andy Warhol?

You're a strange one, but I like ya anyway.

* * *

 

To: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
From: TaylorHanson@hanson.net  
Subject: Re: weirdo :P

I get wordy for no reason, love. I was in a random mood. Still am.

So I think I'll randomly tell you that I want to do things that are very inappropriate to you, if and when I get you alone.

* * *

 

To: TaylorHanson@hanson.net  
From: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
Subject: Re: Re: weirdo :P

Wordy? You? I don't believe it.

Now you're making me blush. I'm sure it's quite adorable. I usually am, haha. But seriously... I'm all for being inappropriate. Just name the time and place, honey.

* * *

 

To: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
From: TaylorHanson@hanson.net  
Subject: Re: Re: Re: weirdo :P

Oh, blushing... come on, I've not done anything completely flattering yet.

Tell me something you really enjoy. I don't want to seem arrogant, but I'm probably good at it. Of course, just telling you that won't do either of us any real good. ;)

* * *

 

To: TaylorHanson@hanson.net  
From: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: weirdo :P

I think the blushing was more of a reaction to your bluntness than anything else.

As for things I enjoy which you might be good at... let's save that discussion for a later date, because I think that might require some hands-on demonstration.

And boring as it sounds, I'd settle for a good cuddle right now. That's all, just a cuddle.

* * *

 

To: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
From: TaylorHanson@hanson.net  
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: weirdo :P

Well, either way... I'm glad I got to make you blush tonight.

Waiting works for me. Next weekend you'll be around, you said? It might not be that long of a wait, lovely.

I don't find cuddling boring at all. I'm tired of hugging a pillow every time I go to sleep. I might be blunt to stimulate a girl's imagination, but I'm really much more in practice at being a romantic. Cuddling is definitely part of that and something that I miss.

* * *

 

To: TaylorHanson@hanson.net  
From: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: weirdo :P

Yep, next weekend. I'll probably be in Friday afternoon. We should definitely try to get together, and I mean it. None of this “maybe we'll see each other” crap that we've done before, let's really get together this weekend. I'm crap at making plans, but let's make this happen.

And perhaps we'll have a cuddle while we're at it :)

* * *

 

To: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
From: TaylorHanson@hanson.net  
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: weirdo :P

You have my full support. Let's make this happen, haha.

How about we just make plans for you to stay at my place, and we can cuddle all night, and watch movies that none of our other friends understand.

* * *

 

 

_March 10, 2004_

To: TaylorHanson@hanson.net  
From: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
Subject: Plans?

So... how does Friday night sound? Not sure what time I'll be in town, though.

* * *

 

To: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
From: TaylorHanson@hanson.net  
Subject: Re: Plans?

Are you serious? Friday is my 21st birthday, haha.

It's good, since health-wise I can't exactly celebrate it the way I'd like to.

I'll be able to meet you somewhere for sure. Me and Ike are going to have just one beer for sure, though, sometime. We'll probably just do that at home, if we can avoid the parents. They will probably will worry too much about my health to let me do much drinking, though.

* * *

 

 

_March 12, 2004_

To: TaylorHanson@hanson.net  
From: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
Subject: hey

Hey love, I just remembered that I should probably tell you that I might get into town a bit earlier Friday than I expected. I have a test in class and I can leave early after that, which means I can leave Lawton as early as I want, basically. So I'll definitely be around for a 7 o'clock movie, if that's still the plan.

Either way, I'll give you a call when I get nearby so you'll know.

<3 Adelaide

* * *

 

To: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
From: TaylorHanson@hanson.net  
Subject: Re: hey

Aha, that is good news. You won't have to rush as much. You should be relaxed for our night together. You'll have plenty of tension later. ;)

Since it's my birthday, and plans with my family are in the works, it might still be best for the 9 o'clock showing. The only risk there is that since I wake up around 1:30 pm, and you'll have been busy being responsible, you might get tired before I do, haha.

* * *

 

To: TaylorHanson@hanson.net  
From: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
Subject: Re: Re: hey

Me? Responsible? Haha, that's funny.

Well, if you might be busy then, should I still give you a call just to see? If I end up having to hang out with my family, I may be cutting it close for the 7 movie anyway.

I don't know how accurate Yahoo's movie showtimes are, but according to them Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind is playing at 7:30 and that's about the only movie out right now that I really have any interest in. So it would be cool if we could make it to that one. Otherwise we're stuck with something stupid that we won't watch anyway. But I guess that's not really a problem... ;)

* * *

 

To: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
From: TaylorHanson@hanson.net  
Subject: Re: Re: Re: hey

Eh, I don't think we'll be seeing Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. Sorry. Looks like we'll just have to go out more than once, and I think that just might work for both of us. ; )

Definitely call. I'm not sure if you have my number so here it is again, 918 425 6745

p.s. Stupid movies are more fun than good ones sometimes. Especially if you have a date that likes to make fun of it and talk all the way through. (And who may be a little tipsy from drinking with his big brother haha)

* * *

 

 

_March 13, 2004_

To: TaylorHanson@hanson.net  
From: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
Subject: giant sigh of relief

So that instant message was sent in a moment omgmyphonedoesntwork panic. I think it was a false alarm. Had some techy friends check it out and it does work now, so our plans are still on. See you tomorrow, love.

* * *

 

To: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
From: TaylorHanson@hanson.net  
Subject: Re: giant sigh of relief

Oh darling, I'd have been driving all through Tulsa looking for you even if you couldn't call.

* * *

 

To: TaylorHanson@hanson.net  
From: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
Subject: Re: Re: giant sigh of relief

Yeah, I think that was going to be my plan as well. Or I could have held someone hostage and forced them to let me use their phone. But I don't think I'm scary enough for that.

* * *

 

To: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
From: Taylorhanson@hanson.net  
Subject: Re: Re: Re: giant sigh of relief

Don't you know that I found you intimidating upon first meeting you. ;)

* * *

 

To: TaylorHanson@hanson.net  
From: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: giant sigh of relief

I think that was related less to my scariness than it was to my gorgeousness. Or my boobs. But clearly, my conceitedness was not a factor in any of it.

* * *

 

To: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
From: TaylorHanson@hanson.net  
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: giant sigh of relief

It was also probably that your gaggle of women were all gorgeous and in league together at all times. Plus, you had big male friends. That was a hard nut to crack. lol

Just remember, that first concert we flirted, I was already making headway with this girl I'd met at a concert in Georgia the year before. But I went after -you- my lovely. Who had a boyfriend. I make all the same mistakes these days too, haha. Hopefully if I consistently do that, I'll have a constant stream of a few years later strolls down memory lane that evolve into more.

* * *

 

To: TaylorHanson@hanson.net  
From: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: giant sigh of relief

Of course I remember all of our flirtation. Including the time I nearly cheated on that boyfriend... My mistakes tend to be more along the lines of not quite seeing a good thing when it's staring me in the face telling me it's a good thing.

* * *

 

To: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
From: TaylorHanson@hanson.net  
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: giant sigh of relief

I'm a very bad bad thing.

There, now are you more comfortable? haha

p.s. Good or bad, either way... I've given sufficient fair warning, right? I always intend to be good.

* * *

 

 

> _“There are things known_  
>  _and there are things unknown  
>  _ _and in between are the doors.”  
>  _ ― Jim Morrison, Letters from Joe 


	8. Darkness Falls, Daylight Fades

_March 14, 2004_

__

__

> _When you’re too tired to walk and too scared to run_  
>  _And your heavyweight knees buckle under a ton_  
>  _Blue sky visions turn into a storm_  
>  _I’ve got suspicions you won’t make it one more_  
>  _Well there’s no silver lining, there’s nothing to lose_  
>  _So don’t wait for tomorrow  
>  _ _Don’t wait for tomorrow_  
>  \-- Hanson, Tonight

I was in a state of panic for the entire drive back to Tulsa to see Taylor. It truly wasn't a long drive, coming in at just around three hours. That was plenty of time to panic, though, and plenty of time to consider all the possible outcomes of our date. With all of that on my mind, the drive seemed easily twice as long. 

So many things about finally going on a date—a real date, not something we tried to pretend wasn't—with Taylor terrified me. I'm ashamed to admit it, was ashamed to even _think_ it, but my shallow side was terrified of what Taylor might look like. I knew what chemo patients looked like—pale, thin, no hair. Unlike the rest of the female population, I had never found Taylor all that attractive anyway. He was already too thin, with gangly arms and legs that never seemed to do what he told them to. His ears stuck out, his cheeks were always red like he was embarrassed or sunburned, and his eyes had this annoying way of staring right through a person. He was striking, to be sure, but he wasn't really what I would call attractive. I could only imagine what he might look like after chemo. I hated the thought every time it crossed my mind, but I couldn't rid myself of it.

The worst thought, though, wasn't that. What if there was really nothing between us? I had never truly given him a chance before. He had nice words for me, but that didn't mean I reciprocated any of what he felt, even when I flirted back. What would I do if that was the case?

A thought occurred to me. I would sleep with him anyway. I knew myself, knew all too well the lack of shame I did a good job of faking. After all our flirting emails, after a three hour drive just for a date... I would sleep with him.

We planned to meet at his house first so that he could drive us to the movie theater. Taylor had tried to explain to me all of the restrictions placed on him due to his compromised immune system, but I didn't really understand. The Admiral Twin was perfect four our purposes, though, because it meant we didn't even have to leave the car. There would be only the bare minimum of interaction with other human beings.

I had only been to his house once or twice, but I remembered the way. I was buzzed in at the gate and my heart pounded so hard I thought it would burst through my chest or leap right out of my throat. Taylor had explained that he was staying in the pool house, so I steered my car that way, down the smaller driveway that led past their garage studio.

For a moment, I just sat in my car and stared at the pool house door. I must have stared a second too long, because the door swung open. There he was.

Every picture I had imagined of him was true. He couldn't have been more than skin and bones—bones that had betrayed him, I remembered myself—and he was more pale than ever before, even the rosy color gone from his cheeks. As I stepped out of my car to meet him halfway, I saw that he had no hair, either. At least, that's how it appeared to me. A big red beanie covered his head, and not even a wisp of blonde hair escaped its edges.

It was a scary sight, and my heart dropped. But somehow, he still looked like Taylor. He smiled, the expression looking strange on his nearly colorless lips.

“Lady,” he said, his voice soft. “You look even more beautiful than I remembered.”

It was cliché, but it still made me blush. Not knowing what to say in response, I mumbled something about getting my purse, and rushed back to my car to grab it. We exchanged a few more awkward words as we climbed into his car, and then we were on our way.

The movie was completely forgettable, a cheesy romantic comedy with bad actors and a worse script. We did watch it, in spite of Taylor's jokes about the other things we could do alone in his car in the dark. I laughed off every one of his jokes and hoped he couldn't see my deep red blush in the movie's light.

We didn't even hold hands like teenagers, nor did he try to sneak his arm around my shoulder. It felt anti-climactic. Wasn't this supposed to be a date? It hardly felt like one. There was an awkwardness, a strange almost tangible feeling, but we were old friends, weren't we? This wasn't a first date between two people who had never met.

This was Taylor... and me. It was awkward but somehow familiar at the same time.

We didn't eat dinner after the movie. It was late and my stomach was aching, because I hadn't been able to eat earlier due to nerves. I understood, though, that Taylor couldn't go in public restaurants. I was sure he must have had food in his pool house, but I didn't have the nerve to ask. I didn't have the nerve to do much of anything as he ushered me into the house and gave me the grand tour.

“It's not much, I know,” he said as we stood in the middle of the combination living room and dining room. “But I like being a little bit on my own. It's kind of more and less freedom than I had in New York, but what are you gonna do? I'm really supposed to stay... isolated. So this way I'm not breathing in germs from the kids, but I'm still near enough for Mom to dote on me.”

I nodded through his entire speech, the enormity of what he's been through hitting all at once and maybe for the first time. When he saw that I was not going to reply with words, he took a few steps backward into the kitchen.

“Do you want anything to eat? Drink? I may still have a few of my very first legally purchased beers.”

I chuckled and shook my head. “No, thanks. I'm fine.”

I was anything but fine, but Taylor didn't need to know that. As soon as I met his eyes — mistake — I could see that he saw right through my attempts to play it cool.

“Come here,” he said, motioning me into the kitchen. “I know it's a mess and all, but I want you to be comfortable here. Make yourself at home.”

I took off my shoes and took a step closer to Taylor. He gave me a reassuring smile and a nod. My fears didn't vanish completely, but I felt better. Bolder. I took a few more steps across the room until finally I was standing right in front of him.

“You know,” he said softly, closing the small gap between our bodies. “There's one thing I never got to do back when you were in high school...”

I knew then what was going to happen. There was no question about it. Taylor rested his arms on my shoulders and I let my eyes flutter shut as I watched him lean down. The second my eyes were fully closed, his lips connected with mine.

I'd developed a theory about kissing, a theory that Melanie laughed off when I shared it with her. When I kissed Jacob, there were always butterflies in my stomach. I'd never felt that so strongly before him and not at all after him. I kept throwing myself at more and more guys, hoping to finally feel it again. Didn't that feeling mean something, I'd asked Melanie. What if it never happened again and I'd lost my change at love?

But Taylor... when Taylor kissed me, I felt it. He was nothing more than a skeleton beneath my hands that grasped at his shirt, but it didn't matter. That kiss, his kiss, meant everything.

I felt that kiss down to my toes and I never wanted it to end. Taylor pulled away first and I tugged pitifully on his shirt, pulling myself up onto my toes to stay near his lips. He looked at me and chuckled, and for the first time, I noticed that he had no eyebrows or even eyelashes. 

It was a strange thing to notice, but like every other aspect of his changed appearance, I was finding myself far more capable of taking it in stride than I would have imagined.

“Why don't we finish this tour in the bedroom?” He asked, his lash-less eyes still smiling down at me.

“Yeah, okay,” I managed to choke out.

Taylor led the way and I followed closely behind him. It only gave me time to notice how low on his hips his jeans sat. They had to be at least a size too big and even his belt didn't seem up to the task of keeping them on. His t-shirt—he certainly hadn't dressed up for the date—also hung limply on him like he was nothing more than a clothes hanger.

His bedroom was plain and simple and said nearly nothing at all about the guy who lived there. I supposed that shouldn't have surprised me; he had only moved in after getting out of the hospital. There was a desk with a few pill bottles on top, and a hospital mask dangled from one of the bedposts. After those two discoveries, I decided to stop looking around the room and just focus on Taylor. 

I let him pick out the movie, and he chose, of all things, The Goonies. It wasn't romantic at all, and we'd both seen it a million times. Needless to say, we didn't see very much of it that night. I wasn't surprised at all when I saw him casually moving closer to me, and I fully anticipated his next kiss. It felt... right. Even when his hands began to wander under my shirt, that was all I could think. It just felt so right to be with Taylor. It hardly seemed like this was the first time he'd touched me that way, but I knew it was. For as comfortable as it felt, though, it could have been the thousandth time.

I hadn't lost my virginity to a guy I loved. I wasn't even sure before that night that I'd _ever_ had sex with a guy I loved. Marcus... maybe. I thought I'd loved him. But being with Taylor, listening to the soft little moans he made and watching him move on top of me, felt so, so different from any sex I'd ever had. I didn't want to call it making love, because that seemed so cheesy, but I knew no other way to accurately describe it.

When Taylor pulled back and turned his head away from me, I didn't know what to think.

“Fuck...” he mumbled, running his hand over his face. It was then that I noticed how hard he was breathing, which wasn't unusual, I supposed.

Still... I was concerned. “Are you okay?” 

“Not really,” he said, his voice sounding a little forced as he gasped for breath. “I can't really... I don't have a lot of energy. I'll be alright in a minute, I swear. Then we can carry on.”

“Are you even supposed to be...?” I asked, my brow furrowing as I realized just how bad the situation was.

“Honestly?” He replied, a tiny smirk on his lips. “Probably not. But I'm not going to let that stop me.”

And he didn't. His full energy never seemed to return, but that was fine. I just wanted him to be okay. The sex was still easily the best I'd ever had, and I knew that had little to do with Taylor's skills or anything other than just _Taylor_ himself. 

When it was over, I slipped off to the bathroom to change into my pajamas. I'd tucked a t-shirt and shorts into my purse just in case, since it was strongly implied that I would be spending the night. It was late by then, I knew, so I assumed he wouldn't ask me to leave. In the bathroom there were even more pill bottles and I tried not to look at them all.

Taylor had already settled into the bed, his arms crossed behind his head on the pillow, when I returned. He'd slipped back into his boxers, but that was all. There was a satisfied little smile on his face that only grew as he watched me walk into the room and climb into bed next to him.

“That... was the best sex I've ever had,” he said.

I raised an eyebrow. “Really? But you're...”

“What, a rockstar?” He asked, then turned his head to stare directly at me with those freakishly piercing eyes. “Lady, you're only the third girl I've slept with. Sure, I fooled around before... well, before I met you. But I was with Hannah for a long time. I had a few casual dates when we broke up the first time, but that was it. Certain... other things got in the way, you know?”

I nodded. I hadn't really considered that. It just seemed insane to realize that little old me was more experienced than Taylor Hanson. Not sure that I wanted to really continue that conversation, I let my eyes wander over Taylor's body. I'd noticed the scar on his chest, and my hand darted out to touch it almost completely of its own accord.

“Is this... umm...” 

Taylor nodded. “The first one, yeah. Second one was on the back of my head.”

He leaned his head toward me and I craned my neck to see it. Sure enough, there was a matching scar just above the base of his skull, a long line of raised, pink skin marring his otherwise bald head. He'd only taken his hat off once I started tugging on his shirt, and I wondered how much he'd wanted to just leave it on during the entire thing.

“I'm kind of lucky the tumors were where they were,” he said as I continued to run my finger along the scar. “The first one was pressing on my lung, you know? So I was always out of breath. I didn't think that much of it, until I started really slowing down and spacing out.”

I nodded. “Zac... umm, I saw him at that benefit thing. He told a little bit about it all.”

“He said he saw you,” Taylor replied with a nod of his own. “I just figured the pains were stress, you know? Recording, traveling, fighting with the label... it was all a lot to handle. But it got really bad one night and Mom convinced me to go to the hospital. The whole damn family went, and they were all there when the doctors gave me the news. Cancer.”

I had a feeling he was going to be talking for a while, so I just settled down into the bed and watched his lips as the words poured from them.

“They had a whole team of specialists there at the ready. I guess having money and fame helps with that sort of thing. They said I could take some time to consider the options, but I didn't want to wait. Whatever needed to be done, I wasn't doing myself any favors if I put it off. I told them to start chemo right then and there. It was late at night, but they did. It takes hours, and I slept through most of it... and slept straight on through to the morning. I think I was just so glad to know what was wrong, strange as that sounds, and it took a weight off my shoulders. Best night of sleep I'd had in a long time.

“All the kids went home, but Dad and Zac stayed behind to be with me when I woke up. Dad was out getting coffee when I finally came around, and there was Zac, just casually flipping through a magazine in the chair next to the bed. When he noticed I was awake, he looked up at me, said 'morning, chemo-sabe,' and then went right back to reading his magazine. And you know, that's when I knew everything was going to be okay, cheesy as that sounds.”

I let out a small laugh at that, even thought it felt strange to laugh at a story about cancer. I'd only seen small glimpses of Zac's sense of humor through the years, but I knew it was just as odd as Taylor's.

“But then...” Taylor said, tapping the back of his head. “It came back. It was headaches this time, and I _knew_. I knew it was back, but I tried to ignore it. Stupid.”

“You're not stubborn or anything,” I replied.

“Not at all,” Taylor said, grinning. “Recurrences of my kind of cancer are pretty uncommon, you know. So they have to really go all out to treat it. It's actually kind of cool, the way they did it. I mean, I don't know much about science, but I thought it was cool.”

“What did they do?”

“First, surgery and chemo, but a much stronger dose. It basically completely destroyed my immune system. Have you seen tv shows where they have patients in sterile rooms?”

I nodded.

“That's what I stayed in for the last few months,” he replied. “Everyone had to be disinfected before they could come in. I mean, I had _no_ immune system. Before the chemo, they did a little surgical procedure to remove and store some of my stem cells, and then they put them back into me once I was effectively a blank slate. In theory, I was never sick. It's all out of my system. Everything I was ever immunized against? Gone. I get to take all those shots again over the next few months. That's why I still can't go in public much now. It won't take _that_ long for my body to build back up now that I'm done with it all, but there are still all those restrictions I told you about. We've put off the tour as long as we could so I could be ready. I just hope... I just hope I really am.”

Some of what he'd said went over my head. I didn't know anything about science or medicine. It sounded... impossible. But here he was. An impossible treatment for an impossible boy. Yeah, that sounded about right.

“What are you thinking about?” He asked. “I can see your brain working behind those eyes.”

“Just... about everything, I guess,” I replied. “Everything you just told me. All the time that's passed. I mean, it's been three years since I've even seen you in person. But it's like... it's like everything and nothing has changed between us.”

Taylor nodded. “I think what's between us... that's never gonna change, darling. Never has, never will.”

“I guess I just wish...” I began, glancing away from him. Making eye contact with him when I _wasn't_ talking about something so important was hard enough. I definitely couldn't do it then. “I just wish we hadn't wasted so much time.”

“What would have happened, though? If we'd gotten together back then.”

I shrugged, still not meeting Taylor's eyes.

“I get it,” he said. “I was... the unknown. Whatshisname was the safe bet. I wasn't. And let's face it, I've only gotten worse since then. But what if you had taken the risk? Once you were in college, we'd have drifted apart. Isn't that what college does? If not... you wouldn't have stuck by me through the chemo.”

“I'd like to think I would have,” I whispered.

“You wouldn't have,” he replied.

His words were like a knife to my heart. I couldn't imagine his little Hannah was so much stronger than me, but I didn't dare say it. Did Taylor even know me at all? But then... maybe he was right. I was stronger now, but that first year of college had been tough. Trying to go through the divorce, the depression... all of that _and_ a boyfriend with cancer? It seemed almost impossible. Maybe he had a point.

“Anyway,” he said, running my hand through my hair. “You're here now, right?”

“I am,” I replied. “I still wonder, though. It's not like we ever really even... dated. It's weird to feel so close to you after so long. Don't you think?”

“Maybe. But we didn't need to date. I mean, it would have been nice. But it doesn't mean there was nothing there.”

I nodded. 

“Want to know something?” He asked.

“Sure...” I replied, having no clue where that question had come from.

“Every time I write a song about the sky... or a lyric about it, at least, it's about you. That whole 'blue skye' thing.”

That left me entirely speechless. I wanted to say something. When I got home, I had every intention of looking up his entire discography. I wanted to hear these songs. I knew some of them were about me, but I wondered just how many were... 

I noticed Taylor staring at me and I really wished I had something intelligent to say. But I didn't. I just looked right at him and yawned.

Taylor chuckled softly. “Are you tired?”

I nodded. “Aren't you? It's late...”

“I am, but... I don't sleep much. I took my sleeping pills while you were in the bathroom. They'll kick in soon, and hopefully I'll be out. I roll around and kick a lot, though. Another lovely side effect of... I don't even know anymore. One of the four billion drugs in my system.”

“I saw all the bottles,” I admitted.

“Would you believe there used to be more?” He asked. “Now it's mostly steroids and sleeping pills. Stuff to build me back up and knock me out. There are pain pills, too, but I don't take those as much now. If I could get enough sleep, I wouldn't hurt as much.”

“Are you in pain now?” I asked.

He forced a smile. “Not right now, darling. And in general, not nearly as much as the first time. I'm not saying I was addicted to the pain pills or anything, but let's just say, I took them. A lot. And when I ran out, it was not pleasant.”

I nodded softly, unsure what to say to that little confession.

“Don't worry about me now,” he said, kissing my cheek. “I'll be fine. I'll go to sleep, eventually, and then tomorrow I'll prop myself up with a Red Bull, then do it all over again. But get some sleep now, okay? I know you're tired, and hopefully you'll have less trouble falling asleep than me.”

“Okay,” I replied. “Goodnight, Taylor.”

“Goodnight, Lady.”

As I rolled over and curled myself into the warm cocoon of his body and the soft quilt he wrapped around us, I realized something.

I was in love with him. 

 

_March 15, 2004_

I woke up before Taylor the next morning. The sleeping pills evidently put him into something of a coma once they actually took effect, and I supposed that was a good thing, if he was truly in that much pain. For several minutes, I just lay in bed and watched him sleep. His eyelids fluttered as though he were having a bad dream and every so often, his entire body would twitch. It had woken me up several times during the night, but as soon as I remembered who I was with, I drifted off again easily.

It was almost noon, though, judging by the alarm clock on Taylor's bedside table, and I couldn't go back to sleep again. After watching him sleep for a few minutes more, I peeled myself away from him and gathered up my abandoned clothes. I turned back to him as I slipped back into the blouse and skirt I'd worn the day before, even though I knew he was still asleep and wasn't watching me change. 

Once I'd smoothed my clothes down and done my best to pull the knots of out of my hair, I crept out to the living room and turned the television on at a low volume. I figured Taylor would be asleep for a while, but I didn't want to just leave without saying goodbye. I hadn't promised my dad that I would be home at any particular time, so I figured it really didn't matter how long I hung around Taylor's house.

I'm not sure how long I sat there barely paying any attention at all to the television before Taylor walked into the room. He'd managed to pull on a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt, but he still looked half asleep.

“Good morning, beautiful,” he said, leaning against the doorframe.

“Sleeping Beauty finally decided to join us, hmm?”

Taylor frowned ever so slightly. “It's the pills... once I'm out, I'm out. And I'm going to need a Red Bull, stat, if I'm going to be any use to you today.”

I bit my lip, wishing I hadn't said anything at all, and watched as Taylor made his way to the kitchen and grabbed a Red Bull from the refrigerator. He opened it and gulped down half the can before turning around to face me again.

“So,” he said. “Lunch? Before you go home... I ought to at least buy you one meal, even if I didn't take you out for a nice dinner.”

“Where can we go?” I asked, still nervously chewing on my lip.

“I can't go in anywhere, so... there's a Sonic just up the road. How about that?”

I wanted to say no. It reminded me too much of the night of the benefit, when Zac and I had talked. But if it was the only place we could go, then that was all there was to it. I nodded and forced a smile, and soon we were buckled into Taylor's car, speeding down the tiny little country road that took us closer to downtown.

We ate lunch in his car, of course, with nothing but the radio to fill our awkward silence. I wished I could just stay with him all day. Why did I even need to go home at all? I shouldn't have even bothered telling Dad that I was coming, and instead just spent the entire weekend with Taylor. 

Assuming Taylor would have wanted me to stay.

I knew how I felt, but his feelings were a mystery. At times, he was just as intense as I remembered him being, and at other times he seemed so casual and dismissive. I didn't know what to make of him at all.

I finished my onion rings on the drive back to his house, and we sat in his car for a few minutes longer, both dancing around the word _goodbye_.

“Text me or something when you get home?” He finally said. “Just so I know you made it okay.”

I nodded, even though that seemed silly. It was only on the other side of town. Mounds wasn't _that_ far from the suburb where I lived. But Taylor seemed so serious when he said it that I couldn't tell him no.

“And Lady... I'm glad we finally did this. So what if it took us a few years? It happened when it needed to happen, I think.”

Again, I could only nod. Taylor leaned across the car and kissed me again, and I didn't want to ever let him go or let that moment end.

 

_March 15, 2004_

To: Taylorhanson@hanson.net  
From: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
Subject: Checking in

Just checking in, letting you know that I made it home perfectly safe. Although I then arrived home to find all of the locks on the house changed. Dad has a habit of losing his keys and then changing the locks, so I was just a bit upset that I didn't know about this in advance. But evidently, his girlfriend went nuts and he broke up with her. Then she came to the house and stole a bunch of my clothes. Thus the lock being changed. He's gone to retrieve the clothes now, but if that doesn't work... I don't know.

And in case I didn't mention it already, last night was amazing and wonderful, for various reasons.

* * *

 

 

To: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
From: Taylorhanson@hanson.net  
Subject: Re: Checking in

I'm glad you're safe, and sorry to hear about locks being changed and stuff being stolen.

Thank -you- for last night and today. Overnight, you turned from a simple fantasy, to an experience I'm going to revisit plenty of times over.

And that's excluding just how much we laughed and enjoyed each other's company. Factoring that in, I'm wishing we were closer together all the time. Can I just stop this traveling musician thing?

* * *

 

 

> _A wishing tree_  
>  _I asked for you_  
>  _Ticking on from midnight_  
>  _You won’t remember  
>  _ _But I do_
> 
> _Take me home_  
>  _It’s all in me_  
>  _Trading shadows for sunlight  
>  _ _You can’t control what you can’t see_
> 
> _So just let go_  
>  _And now you’re mine_  
>  _We’ll make nothing everything_  
>  _Hold this moment  
>  _ _Take your time_
> 
> _It’s just you and me and you_  
>  _Just you and the sun and the sky_  
>  _It’s just you and me and you  
>  _ _Just you and the sun and the sky_  
>  \-- Hanson, Sun and Sky 


	9. To See If I Could Catch A Dream

 

_March 21, 2004_

 

 

> _“I also remembered that you were beautiful."_  
>  _"Memory does play tricks on us."_  
>  _"No. Your face is the same, but I don't remember what beautiful means anymore.”_  
>  ― Orson Scott Card, Ender's Game

 

To: Taylorhanson@hanson.net  
From: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
Subject: hey you

Looks like I'll be in Tulsa again this weekend.

I'd love to see you again.

Think you can handle two weekends in a row of Adelaide? ;)

* * *

 

To: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
From: Taylorhanson@hanson.net  
Subject: Re: hey you

Maybe, I'll have to check my immune system, I mean, schedule. I might not be in Tulsa this weekend lol. Or at least not home. Or at least not sober.

I've been on three dates since being home, but other than seeing like a pair of friends here and there, I haven't gotten all my buddies together and rocked out with some booze yet.

Of course, I could go visit friends just about anywhere, if I felt like it. So it's up in the air. Besides... I know you just got a taste of all the greatness I offer, and now you want more. *wags a finger at you* Don't ask for more than you can handle, doll.

* * *

 

To: Taylorhanson@hanson.net  
From: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
Subject: Re: Re: hey you

Well, just let me know. I think I'll be getting together with Chelsea and company at some point as well.

And we'll just see how much I can handle. We will see. I still have a few tricks up my sleeve that you haven't seen yet, you know.

* * *

 

To: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
From: Taylorhanson@hanson.net  
Subject: Re: Re: Re: hey you

And I hope you know I didn't show you everything I could do the first time, either.

We never had that... "What kind of things do you like?" conversation. I'm kind of glad. Now we'll always have an excuse to get together again.

* * *

 

 

 

_March 22, 2004_

To: Taylorhanson@hanson.net  
From: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
Subject: (no subject)

Chelsea has claimed me as hers.

You might have to fight her. My money is on her, haha.

Ignore me, I am fighting tooth and nail against sleep and have probably ceased to make sense.

* * *

 

To: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
From: Taylorhanson@hanson.net  
Subject: Re: (no subject)

I say we all get together and work this out, nice and menage a trois like.

* * *

 

To: Taylorhanson@hanson.net  
From: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
Subject: Re: Re: (no subject)

I now owe you a slap.

And I think you're about one comment like that away from earning the title "magnificent bastard." Really, that's a term of endearment coming from me, a girl who refers to herself as a bitch.

* * *

 

To: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
From: Taylorhanson@hanson.net  
Subject: Re: Re: Re: (no subject)

One of these days you'll experience more than you can handle, like I keep telling you that you will.

And the next time you'll really surprise me by bringing her along. Let's just go ahead and say that that's your "Thank You" to me.

You won't slap me. Unless I want you to slap me.

You're beautiful.

If you don't feel comfortable with the knowledge that I find Chelsea amazing, too, you could always just bring Scarlet Johansson.

That would be a good "Thank You", also. Haha

* * *

 

To: Taylorhanson@hanson.net  
From: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: (no subject)

Well Chelsea does keep saying we should double date, but I don't think it's for the same reason you're thinking of.

And what makes you so sure I won't slap you? I only look sweet and nice, you know.

And yes, I know I'm beautiful. But you can keep saying it all you like.

* * *

 

To: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
From: Taylorhanson@hanson.net  
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: (no subject)

Oh quit acting like you knew.

You know I see things like nobody else.

I just see them the way they actually are, and as they can be in the future. I'm not telling you that nobody thinks you're beautiful but me, don't get me wrong.

Don't you think I made certain not to let us fall into ruin or into a too friendly situation at the end of our adventure so that in the future I could take my chances with you?

I'll tell you all you like, so long as I know that it's leading us to where I'd like us to be.

And actually, the "us" there isn't at all very comfortable for someone who's comfortable in his single-ness at the present point in time.

* * *

 

To: Taylorhanson@hanson.net  
From: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: (no subject)

Maybe I knew, maybe I didn't. Either way, I like hearing it from you. You have a way of saying things, a way of making me feel... I don't know. You just disarm me. Always have.

I should have known you had plans for me, haha. Good job with that, since I tend to let friendships and all just fall apart over time. I'm glad that we've kept something of whatever we ever were alive.

Sorry for any discomfort I may be causing. As of late, my specialty seems to be finding boys who want to be single and mucking up their plans. Although the ball is in your court here, so you can still steer things in whatever direction you wish. Wow, I actually didn't meant to mix that metaphor as badly as I did.

* * *

 

To: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
From: Taylorhanson@hanson.net  
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: (no subject)

Can I steer it towards you and Chelsea?

Nevermind, don't answer that. I already know it.

I just hope I earn that title this spring. I damn well deserve it. And I want to deserve it magnificently.

I caused the discomfort, dear. I used the term "us". So long as I keep my diction clear, I'll keep things in my court. I like courting, in my own court. Court court courty court.

Now it is late, and I am due an ambien, whose drowsiness I will pull creativity from, rather than dreams. Either way, this is goodnight, gorgeous.

* * *

 

 

 

_March 24, 2004_

To: Taylorhanson@hanson.net  
From: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
Subject: music and girls

I've been downloading stuff by the Arcade Fire all day thanks to you.

You have good taste. In music and girls, haha.

* * *

 

To: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
From: Taylorhanson@hanson.net  
Subject: Re: music and girls

Do you want a physical reminder, or should I just tell you that fantasies of you no longer haunt my dreams... memories of you do that now.

* * *

 

To: Taylorhanson@hanson.net  
From: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
Subject: Re: Re: music and girls

Well, if you're offering... I'll take the physical reminder ;)

* * *

 

To: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
From: Taylorhanson@hanson.net  
Subject: Re: Re: Re: music and girls

Perhaps...

I'll have to get to know where I want myself to be a little better before I offer. ;p

* * *

 

To: Taylorhanson@hanson.net  
From: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: music and girls

Call me dumb, but exactly what is that supposed to mean?

* * *

 

To: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
From: Taylorhanson@hanson.net  
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: music and girls

Hmm, I hate answering questions about myself with "I'm not sure."

So, instead I'll just be totally honest.

I like you a lot more than I let on, with my 'bring Chelsea' jokes and my 'maybe-hes-a-bastard" statements. That kind of unsettles me a bit, Adelaide. I'm very happy with being single and I want to stay that way. I want to just date; to find someone else who just wants to date.

You, I like a lot for more than just looks... which hints to something more than what I think I should want right now, regardless of if I want it or not.

Does that provide a little more clarity on how I'm acting close and flirty, but distant and probably unseemingly dismissive?

I don't mean to be...

I just have good reason to want to enjoy being single and going out at least once with every girl who catches my eye before picking one to just date, even.

* * *

 

To: Taylorhanson@hanson.net  
From: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: music and girls

Well, I guess that's a better answer than I had expected.

Other than that, I don't really know what to say. It's not a bad thing that I'm speechless, really. It's probably a good thing, because anything I could say would likely insert my foot so far into my mouth that I would need the jaws of life to remove it.

So I'll refrain from saying any more than what I've already said, which isn't really much at all and doesn't at all tell you how I feel. But that's okay, I'm not sure I really wanna talk about my feelings right now.

* * *

 

To: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
From: Taylorhanson@hanson.net  
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: music and girls

You know, that leaves me at a huge disadvantage. I won't press you for details.

I'll just allow myself to hope that however you feel, we have a strong enough, albeit formerly casual, friendship or 'flirtation-ship' that will come through unscathed regardless of the outcome.

Provided I don't do anything truly bastardous. Which I don't plan on doing.

* * *

 

To: Taylorhanson@hanson.net  
From: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: music and girls

Maybe it does leave you at a disadvantage. But I just think that adding my feelings into the mix will only complicate the whole situation even more. Well, maybe not complicate. But it won't make things any better.

But yes... you can have that hope. Although, I can be a little sensitive and sometimes easily hurt, especially when I allow myself to really care about someone. So I can't say whatever happens will be smooth sailing.

But I'll say no more because... well, I don't think it really matters what I would prefer the outcome of all this to be.

* * *

 

To: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
From: Taylorhanson@hanson.net  
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: music and girls

I'm not telling you I don't want to spend time with you. I'm not one of those kinds of guys, though the thought that I might be/might have been one of those guys probably made you want to jump in headfirst even more... :/

Maybe it's a mistake for me to be thinking the way I am about things and I'm letting the best opportunity get by me. I hope not. Only time will tell, as it always does.

* * *

 

To: Taylorhanson@hanson.net  
From: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: music and girls

I do tend to throw myself into the most unfortunate and hopeless situations I can find. Not implying that you are unfortunate or hopeless, just that this isn't exactly what I was hoping for.

Guess it just gives me another reason to beat myself up for turning you down... well, how many times? I was dumb. I'd like to hope that I haven't totally lost my chance, but like you said, I guess time will tell.

And really, if you haven't figured out how I feel about you by now... I thought you were supposed to be smart?

* * *

 

To: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
From: Taylorhanson@hanson.net  
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: music and girls

I knew. That's why I took this opportunity to be honest with you. You're smart, too, but I'd rather just tell you than leave you to figure it out.

Don't beat yourself up. It's just the timing of everything. High school, the music business, cancer, my horrible 2 year relationship with it and my ex, and then now.

I don't count this as turning you down or closing a window at all. I actually kind of think I'm just putting myself out there, as vulnerable I can be, despite the timing.

As you get to know me better, you'll see that I have a fear of finality, so I don't let windows or doors ever close, if I can let them.

* * *

 

To: Taylorhanson@hanson.net  
From: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: music and girls

I do appreciate the honesty. I was starting to wonder, but at least now I can avoid jumping to all the conclusions that I might have done if you hadn't told me the truth.

You fear finality, and I fear open endings. I think we've found another thing (besides our horrible timing) that might be working against us. I can't help beating myself up, though. Even if the door hasn't closed and I haven't totally lost my chance again...

If you feel like you're putting yourself out there and being vulnerable, I almost feel like I ought to do the same. But then, you say you know how I feel, so I don't know that I really need to spell it all out for you. I don't think it's really necessary for me to say that I hope, if/when you get tired of being single, I'll still be around. But there it is anyway. Foot, meet mouth.

* * *

 

To: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
From: Taylorhanson@hanson.net  
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: music and girls

You know my greatest fear. The point of no return. It -is- my greatest fear, and what's sad is that it's got so many applications to real life. Death is only one point of no return. Missed opportunity pops up way more often, though. Unless you're... me... somehow... lol

At least I can still laugh with a grim humor.

Your feet and your mouth, (not to allude to Deliverance or nuthin') are both pretty. I had no idea you were that flexible, haha. I should try some more daring things with you whenever it happens again.

* * *

 

To: Taylorhanson@hanson.net  
From: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: music and girls

I like that you can still laugh. Works well with my morbid and usually inappropriate sense of humor, too.

And speaking of inappropriate jokes... haha. We'll just see about that. I don't practice yoga for nothing, you know.

* * *

 

To: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
From: Taylorhanson@hanson.net  
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: music and girls

*exasperated tone* Y-y-you Yoga?!

Fine... I'm starting pilates to-mor-row.

We're going to go through the kama sutra page by page. Lol

* * *

 

To: Taylorhanson@hanson.net  
From: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: music and girls

I had a copy of the kama sutra once.

I used it as a checklist.

Perhaps I should invest in another copy.

* * *

 

To: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
From: Taylorhanson@hanson.net  
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: music and girls

Haha, oh why.

We could just wikipedia it.

If the info we get is wrong... it'll still -feel- right. ; )

* * *

 

To: Taylorhanson@hanson.net  
From: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: music and girls

Hahaha I love wikipedia. A friend and I once spent hours looking at all of the weird information on there about sex. It all started with the question, exactly how many people does it take to have a orgy? We had no pressing need for an answer, however, so don't go jumping to any conclusions there.

And... oh my. Just stop now. Don't tease me.

* * *

 

To: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
From: Taylorhanson@hanson.net  
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: music and girls

I'll stop.

Just one more thing. The sex was great. Haha

* * *

 

To: Taylorhanson@hanson.net  
From: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: music and girls

I should be keeping a count of how many times you've told me that. I dunno what I would do with that count, but I think it's nearing the double digits now... so that's impressive.

Almost as impressive as the sex was. Yeah. Have I mentioned you were amazing?

* * *

 

To: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
From: Taylorhanson@hanson.net  
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: music and girls

I'd say "I try"... but when we did it, I didn't have to try... it just happened. It was effortless.

It was certainly the only thing on my mind, don't get me wrong. I just think you know what I mean, and it's a good thing.

* * *

 

 

 

_April 8, 2004_

To: Taylorhanson@hanson.net  
From: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
Subject: drunk

So I'm packing to go home for Easter break tomorrow. Realized I still have 1/4 of a bottle of cherry schnapps that I'd prefer not to get in trouble for leaving in my room.

You should anticipate increasingly inappropriate and incomprehensible messages as the night goes on.

* * *

 

To: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
From: Taylorhanson@hanson.net  
Subject: Re: drunk

I'm looking forward to it.

I'm in a pissy mood tonight. Don't count on me being sweet or flirty. In fact, I plan on talking to my ex, in hopes of working myself into a pride fueled rampage.

* * *

 

To: Taylorhanson@hanson.net  
From: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
Subject: Re: Re: drunk

Umm... hmm. Okay. That'll be interesting, I suppose.

I can pretty much guarantee that I'm a flirty drunk. Or you know, just talkative. Which isn't much different from my usual.

At least the ex is useful for something? That's more than I can say for most of mine.

* * *

 

To: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
From: Taylorhanson@hanson.net  
Subject: Re: Re: Re: drunk

I'm pissed off at my family. That's my general version of pissed offness, unless it's at my ex.

Since I can't push my family away the like I can push an ex away, I'm trying to defer my annoyance, or at least increase it towards a party that I don't care much for lol.

You're flirty and talkative. Clever, too. I like discovering and analyzing people when drunk.

* * *

 

To: Taylorhanson@hanson.net  
From: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: drunk

Don't get me started on family. Sure, mine could have been worse than it was, but I can still ramble about it for hours. Even you can't be that interested in what I've got to say.

It seems like lately all my exes have tried to come back into my life in one form or another... I would complain, but it brought you back, too.

I can still type rele... fuck it, nevermind. I can't spell that. Defnitely getting tipsy.

* * *

 

To: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
From: Taylorhanson@hanson.net  
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: drunk

I think I'm going to study sociology, psychology, and war strategy tonight.

Then find the equivalent to an unbeatable campaign, on a social scale. Flattery rarely fails, and never does if it's sincere.

I can convince myself that I sincerely believe anything.

Growing up in the friend zone and obsessing over girls I can't have really makes that like breathing for me.

* * *

 

To: Taylorhanson@hanson.net  
From: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: drunk

Making sense of what you're saying is becoming increasingly difficult... haha

Obsessing over girls you can't have, eh? Wouldn't happen to be talking about anyone I know, would ya? Well... never say never, I guess. Although I can't imagine there are many girls you of all people can't have.

Even I don't know what I want sometimes, I think.

* * *

 

To: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
From: Taylorhanson@hanson.net  
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: drunk

I think I know what I want, even though I dread that it might be all I want one day.

It's nice, warm, moist at times, and very near you right now. ;)

* * *

 

To: Taylorhanson@hanson.net  
From: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: drunk

Umm... I think I get what you're saying. And if I'm right, I wish I didn't understand it.

* * *

 

To: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
From: Taylorhanson@hanson.net  
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: drunk

Uh. No, you didn't get it. It was supposed to -just- be flirty.

Not personally revealing lol.

* * *

 

To: Taylorhanson@hanson.net  
From: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: drunk

Ohhh.... okay. I'm gonna slow down on the schnapps now, I think. And turn off the depressing music.

I promise I'm usually smarter than that, it's just the alcohol mucking it all up. But you knew that, right?

* * *

 

To: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
From: Taylorhanson@hanson.net  
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: drunk

Oh yes. You're much too lively to have missed what I was saying, normally.

Depressing music and booze. You're not alone too, are you?

* * *

 

To: Taylorhanson@hanson.net  
From: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: drunk

I did get your meaning, I think. The emphasis and inflection were just a bit wrong in my original interpretation. And clearly I need to drink more if I can still use words liek that. Then again, I like seeming like an intellectual drunk.

Blame Chelsea for sending me the depressing music. I am alone, but I don't mind drinking alone sometimes. That really makes me sound like an alcoholic, but I'm not. I do come from a long line of them, though. But my addictions lie elsewhere, in things that don't cost as much (or anything at all).

* * *

 

To: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
From: Taylorhanson@hanson.net  
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: drunk

Put on some sexual sounding music... and let me send you dirty dirty messages and tell you all about what I would do to you if I was there. haha

Just be careful not to let yourself get addicted... to anything I say tonight.

* * *

 

To: Taylorhanson@hanson.net  
From: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: drunk

Well that sounds like a fun plan.

And it's probably too late for that warning. But hey, I'm drunk. I can always play it off like I was too sauced to know better.

* * *

 

To: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
From: Taylorhanson@hanson.net  
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: drunk

Mmhm. I bet it sounds just great. Especially since you've got a drunken imagination and some rather powerful memories to go off of.

Sooo... what are you wearing? Haha

* * *

 

To: Taylorhanson@hanson.net  
From: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: drunk

Powerful is an understatement, darling.

I can tell you that, but it's utterly un-sexy. Some old t shirt, plaid pajama pants... the underwear is more interesting, though. Lacy red bra and polka dotted panties.

Can't believe I'm even typing this out... It's not like you haven't already seen it all, but I'm so not the type for... I'm rambling now and I can't even make a coherent sentence. I should sleep.

* * *

 

 

 

_April 10, 2004_

To: Taylorhanson@hanson.net  
From: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
Subject: blahhhh

Just thought I'd send you a message and see what's going on in Taylor-land. I've only been at mom's for a day and already I'm starved for human contact. Dialup and no cable tv will do that to a person, I guess. We don't even have any good plans for Easter.

So, how are you tonight?

* * *

 

To: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
From: Taylorhanson@hanson.net  
Subject: Re: blahhhh

If you're still around, I had company that's gone to sleep now, haha.

* * *

 

To: Taylorhanson@hanson.net  
From: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
Subject: Re: Re: blahhhh

Looks like we missed each other again. Well, I might be coming to Tulsa soon, depending on the news I'll hopefully get tomorrow. It won't be good news, but I won't burden you with my problems. As always, I'd like to see you when I get in, but we'll see what happens...

In case we miss each other yet again, goodnight love :)

* * *

 

To: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
From: Taylorhanson@hanson.net  
Subject: Re: Re: Re: blahhhh

I'm the kind of man who voluntarily shoulders extra burdens.

You can tell me when I see you. Because I want to see you when you come in.

In case I missed you: Good morning, love.

* * *

 

To: Taylorhanson@hanson.net  
From: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: blahhhh

You didn't quite miss me this time, although I will probably hit the sack soon.

I know you are, but I'm the kind of girl who doesn't given her burdens away easily. It'll be easier to talk about in person, though. I like conversations online because you can choose just the right words, but face to face definitely has its advantages.

So I'll be in some time between tomorrow and Monday, haha. And you'll be the first person to know.

* * *

 

To: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
From: Taylorhanson@hanson.net  
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: blahhhh

you have my digits, gurl.

anytime, even if it's not for flirting or making plans. you should know that. part of being a romantic is having the door to friend zone always open, but trusting the girl not to put me there permanently, ever.

* * *

 

To: Taylorhanson@hanson.net  
From: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: blahhhh

Phone conversations aren't really my cup of tea, but I appreciate the thought.

I don't think you have to worry about being permanently in the "friend zone," as you call it. They need to invent a new word for what we are/have been. Friends doesn't have enough shades of meaning.

* * *

 

To: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
From: Taylorhanson@hanson.net  
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: blahhhh

neither does "human".

But that borders on some grand thought that it's far too late to start a conversation about right now. Haha

* * *

 

 

> _There go the memories of yesterday_  
>  _And here come the poetry of all those things I couldn’t say_  
>  _You can only wait so long before your flower petals are all gone_  
>  _Baby, I was trying to burn bridges of stone_  
>  \-- Hanson, Bridges of Stone


	10. A Million Words To Say

 

 

 

April 11, 2004

 

_  
_

 

> _“Love cannot save you from your own fate.”_  
>  ― Jim Morrison

 

To: Taylorhanson@hanson.net  
From: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
Subject: news

Well darling, looks like I'll be in Tulsa tomorrow. Hopefully we'll get to see each other, but I really don't know what's going to happen when I get in. I've gotten some rather disconcerting news about my father, his whore, and his recent arrest that may or may not have something to do with the whore. So I don't know what things will be like at home, but I definitely want to see you. I'm not saying I need a shoulder to cry on, but I could use some company... and your company is about the best I can think of.

* * *

 

To: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
From: Taylorhanson@hanson.net  
Subject: Re: news

Lunch tomorrow, then? I'm going to try to actually sleep during the night, and live during the daylight hours tomorrow. We can dine at some place with a bar (El Guapo's, if it's up to me) and if necessary, drink early in the afternoon. Sitting around a bar only differs from sitting around in my house being that the internet is replaced with booze... which I think constitutes an equal trade.

My number is in your posession and I have my phone on.

* * *

 

To: Taylorhanson@hanson.net  
From: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
Subject: Re: Re: news

I've got a long drive ahead of me, so an early dinner (I'm thinking 3 or 4) would work better for me. That's still definitely daylight hours, and it doesn't require me to be awake before the sun rises. And sorry darling, but not even you are enough for me to wake up that early, haha

* * *

 

To: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
From: Taylorhanson@hanson.net  
Subject: Re: Re: Re: news

That works for me. You'll be tired from the drive. We might watch some tv in between times. Haha

* * *

 

To: Taylorhanson@hanson.net  
From: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: news

Sounds fantastic. Not sure how long the drive will actually take, since I'm coming from farther away. I'll call you before I get there? El Guapo's works for me.

* * *

 

 

 

_April 12, 2004_

I had barely settled in at Mom's for the weekend when I got the phone call. It was a bail bonding company, asking me to verify certain details about my dad so that they could post his bail. I did, but they couldn't answer my questions (such as why he was in jail) and only assured me they would call back later.

They didn't, and by Sunday, I was getting restless. My classes didn't start back until fairly late on Tuesday, so I decided to drive to Tulsa Monday and see what I could find out at the courthouse. Of course, I had other reasons for going to Tulsa, too. I wanted to see Taylor, and I didn't care how pathetic that made me, especially in light of his revelation that he really wasn't ready to date. I had no doubt that it was just a matter of time. He had only just gotten out of the hospital, after all.

I wanted to see him as much as possible before he had to leave Tulsa, but of course, my classes got in the way of that. There would only be a small window, I feared, where neither of us had anything to do and were free to go out when we wanted. A short lunch date wasn't ideal, but it was better than nothing.

As we sat across from each other at the table in El Guapo's, I tried to catalog the ways he seemed to have changed in the few short weeks since I'd seen him. Even in that little amount of time, he seemed to be a tiny bit closer to his old self. No, that wasn't really true. But the familiar pink tinge had returned to his cheeks, even if the rest of him was still deathly pale, and he had the tiniest hint of white blonde eyebrows. He seemed a little more alive, too.

“So at least I can eat in restaurants like this now,” Taylor said, even though he'd only made it halfway through his first taco. “Pretty soon, I'll be allowed to have fast food again. After that, we can really start promoting this album. It's hard to get people to listen when all you can do is call in to radio stations, you know? We need people to _see_ us.”

I nodded along as he rambled, but I couldn't imagine it. I couldn't imagine how he could be so excited about being out in the public again. He still wore that red beanie, and I had no doubt there was little more than peach fuzz beneath it. Would he let the public see that? For some reason, it made me jealous. That felt like a part of him that should only be for me; the world shouldn't see all of Taylor, frail and vulnerable as he was. That was mine. He was mine.

But he wasn't. I knew he wasn't, at least not yet.

After lunch, Taylor convinced me to follow him back to his house. I knew I needed to get to the courthouse before it got very late, but it wasn't like Dad was going anywhere. He would still be there, even if I did spend a little more time with Taylor than I'd planned. Dad wasn't expecting me, of course; even though I didn't expect an answer, I'd called both his cell phone and the house phone several times during the drive to Tulsa, but there had been no answer at either number. It still felt like something of a bad idea, but I followed Taylor back to his house anyway, driving further and further away from the jail where I assumed my dad was still locked up.

Taylor wasted no time escorting me right into his bedroom. He flipped on the television and put in a dvd while I tried to get comfortable on his bed. Something about being alone with him again just felt awkward. I could already tell that he was expecting sex. It wasn't that I _didn't_ want it, but I knew I couldn't stay long.

Still, when Taylor crawled across the bed and laid down next to me, I couldn't resist relaxing into his arms and returning his kisses. For a moment, I wondered if whatever spell came over us a month before had been broken, but it hadn't. His kisses felt exactly the same, filled me with exactly the same feeling of having come home, as they had the first time.

We laid together for a long time, just kissing and occasionally watching the movie but not enough to really follow the plot. It was only when Taylor's hand began to creep under my shirt that I pulled back.

“Is something wrong?” He asked.

I shook my head. “No, it's just... well, what time is it? I really need to go check on Dad...”

Despite being horribly embarrassed by it, I had told Taylor the whole sordid story over dinner. It was far less interesting than his plans for the upcoming tour, but he listened like he really cared. I supposed he did, but he was the sort of person who's every word and reaction was obviously calculated to get the exact response he wanted; it was just part of the fame thing, I supposed.

“You've only been here an hour,” Taylor replied.

“That's probably long enough...” I bit my lip and watched his face for any sign of disappointment. He hid it well, but I thought I could still see it. Truthfully, I was disappointed that I couldn't stay longer, too, but I thought this was kind of a good thing. It would give us something to long for, and give me some tiny semblance of dignity.

“Let me walk you out, then,” Taylor finally replied, grabbing his beanie from where he'd hung it on his bedpost. Even though we were only walking outside on his own property, he couldn't go without it. It was such a crutch to him, I could see, and I worried for him when he was in front of the cameras again.

He didn't hold my hand or even walk that closely to me as we made our way out to the driveway where I'd parked. April in Oklahoma was warm, but I couldn't help noticing the way Taylor seemed tense, as though he was bracing to keep out the cold. I supposed the loss of weight and body hair probably meant that even in the fairly comfortable spring weather, he was cold. I wanted to wrap him up in my arms and share my warmth with him, but I didn't.

He came to an awkward stop beside my car and turned back to face me. “You know, it's probably just as well that you can't stay. I kind of have another date... and I'm running a little bit late for it.”

I blinked at him, trying to process his words. Another date? Of course, I knew he was dating. I knew it wasn't only me. I wasn't that naïve, especially not after the emails Taylor and I had exchanged. Somehow I just didn't expect him to double book himself like that.

“I'd already made plans with her,” he continued. “It's just, you know, I had to squeeze you in when I got your email. You needed me.”

I knew he thought that explained everything and it made it better, but it really didn't. Maybe it should have.

“Well, I won't keep you from it,” I replied with what I hoped was a nonchalent, flirty smile. It couldn't have been farther from how I actually felt. “I'd call and let you know I got home safely, but I wouldn't want to interrupt...”

Taylor chuckled in response to that and it made me feel sick.

He gave me a quick kiss goodbye, far too chaste for everything we'd said and done up to that point, and I got in my car to leave. As I drove back up the road to downtown Tulsa, I felt more and more sick. It wasn't just because of Taylor, though.

The road was deserted enough that I felt comfortable pulling out my cell phone. On a whim, even though I didn't expect an answer, I dialed my dad's number. The line rang and rang, but finally it clicked over and he answered.

“Hello?”

“Hey,” I said, cradling the phone carefully between my ear and shoulder, and trying to focus on the road. “I was just, umm, I got the call from the bail bonding... but I guess you got bailed out?”

“Your uncle got me. You didn't need to come.”

“Well, I never heard back from them and I couldn't get in touch with you, so...”

“It's fine. Everything's okay.”

“I'll be home in a few minutes, then,” I said.

We hung up without saying goodbye, because my dad never said goodbye on the phone. He wasn't one of those people who didn't believe in goodbyes; he just had no manners and never, not even once in his life, remembered that he was supposed to say it before he hung up.

I flipped my phone shut and tossed it in the general direction of the passenger seat, not really caring where it landed or if it broke. Dad was wrong. _Nothing_ was okay.

 

 

_April 12, 2004_

 

To: Taylorhanson@hanson.net  
From: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
Subject: Checking in

Told you I wouldn't call and interrupt your date, lol. Surprisingly, I got a call through to dad on the way back and he was home. He was very short with his replies, but he said everything was okay. So I'm here now and I guess dad is asleep. Hopefully I'll get his side of the story tomorrow before I go back to school. I wish I had a little more time here, because I would like to see you again, but... classes.

* * *

 

To: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
From: Taylorhanson@hanson.net  
Subject: Re: Checking in

do you want to know the awful truth?

I didn't go on another date tonight. I stood in the parking lot and talked to an old friend. Then I drove home and ended up taking a rain check. She offered it, so I took it. I do feel like crap about it, but not too much.

It's “karma”, I guess, haha, but as of right now I'm spending the night alone.

* * *

 

To: Taylorhanson@hanson.net  
From: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
Subject: Re: Re: Checking in

Wow, I kinda feel like a bitch for joking about your other date now. Except I already know I'm a bitch. It's kind of redundant.

Sorry you feel like crap, though. I am such a bitch. But that is one of my endearing qualities, right?

* * *

 

To: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
From: Taylorhanson@hanson.net  
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Checking in

Hey now, I'm not about to let some tiny whiny wench get in the way of my own self-loathing.

Now back the wah-wah wagon up and take a listen:

"I'm the guy who set himself up to go out with two girlies on the same day knowing it would probably end up overlapping."

I don't do this sort of thing all the time, but today I did, so if I'm going to shoot myself in the foot the least I can do is feel it sting and watch it bleed.

p.s. Disregard -all- of that. I'm in a strange mood. Possibly too many pain pills.

p.p.s. Seriously though, don't feel bad. I am a bastard that you probably aren't sure where things are going with or even if they're going. I'm not sure either. But at least I have a conscience about it and you know I don't burn bridges from my end. Even if I have to put up with shitty people like my ex.

* * *

 

To: Taylorhanson@hanson.net  
From: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Checking in

I'm a "tiny whiny wench?" Yeah... guess that sounds about right, haha.

In regards to the post-post-script: yep, that sounds about right. And you know I despise uncertainty, but I'm prepared to deal with it. I can't help feeling a little bad, though, because I'm afraid my offhand comment got misinterpreted or something.

* * *

 

To: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
From: Taylorhanson@hanson.net  
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Checking in

It didn't. Believe me, with the large portion of my mind devoted to ethical thinking, I was already at war with myself when I first got dressed today in preparation to see you.

The only thing I could ever muster up in defense of my own morality was that you said... "I'm not implying that I need to cry on your shoulder, but it helps to have someone to talk to and talking to you is interesting," and I'm paraphrasing there.

Though, that wouldn't stand up in my own court of ethics, and I hardly expect it to stand up in yours.

So, unable to avoid cognitive dissonance I choose to ignore it until the time comes that I don't feel I did any wrong.

That usually comes to me after staying up to six in the morning. Egad... I've just discovered the cause of my insomnia. A twisted form of penance. Lol

* * *

 

To: Taylorhanson@hanson.net  
From: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Checking in

Ethics aren't my strong point. Neither is morality. I'm not going to say that I think you did anything wrong. Believe me, I'm not the person to make that kind of judgment. You might call me a hedonist, even. I'm generally of the idea that you ought to do what feels right so long as you aren't harming anyone else.

Is that the issue? Exactly what is it that you seem to think you've done that's so ethically/morally wrong?

* * *

 

To: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
From: Taylorhanson@hanson.net  
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Checking in

I don't think it's actually the traditional "guilt-based" religion that tells me to think of myself as unworthy or unrighteous and always falling short of the glory of God.

It's not.

I just use that to cite and confirm the fact that I already previously judged myself as inferior.

It's certainly a minority complex, I know. I've known that since I first heard the term at age *singledigithere*

I should probably examine why I like the kind of people I like, to find the root of my personal perfectionism. Even though I judge myself harshly... I don't see anything wrong with that system, haha. So I've never really thought about what horrible sins I might have committed. I generally am aware of a 'wrong' choice when it first occurs to me.

I'm just talking to talk, now. Lol

* * *

 

 

 

_April 17, 2004_

 

To: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
From: Taylorhanson@hanson.net  
Subject: (no subject)

Wud up?

* * *

 

To: Taylorhanson@hanson.net  
From: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
Subject: Re: (no subject)

Not much. The cable's been out on campus all day and I've been downloading music like a madwoman. Finding old cds I had forgotten how much I loved. How have I gone this long without listening to Travis, for example?

And I'm off to eat dinner in a few.

* * *

 

To: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
From: Taylorhanson@hanson.net  
Subject: Re: Re: (no subject)

I'm bored to death... tired. My chest has been hurting since yesterday when I had some odd burger king, haha. I've realized that I'm leaving in just a few days to promote the album. I'm not sure who convinced me I was ready to face the world again, medically or mentally.

How am I possibly going to entertain people right now? I'm not just talking musically. We're barely even playing any acoustic shows right now, for health reasons. But even at the best of times, I don't think I'm nearly as interesting as everyone else seems to. Or as funny.

I sleep almost all day, wake up and am tired the rest of the day, but I can't get to sleep even with ambien to help, until I literally just pass out as the sun rises.

* * *

 

To: Taylorhanson@hanson.net  
From: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
Subject: Re: Re: Re: (no subject)

Aww, I hope you feel better. Chest pains are not good.

I don't think the entertainment and hilariousity will be a problem. It's kind of like how you think I'm pretty no matter what I say. You're fantastically funny and entertaining and you can just forget about arguing with me on that.

I used to be like that, when it comes to sleep. Well I never took ambien. Let's just say... I self-medicated. Anyway, that was no way to get through college. It nearly ruined my freshman year.

* * *

 

To: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
From: Taylorhanson@hanson.net  
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: (no subject)

Sleep-wise, I usually lap myself. Manage a 24 hour transition of waking time. I can't pull it off right now.

Honestly... I'm worried that my body is literally going to start failing. I'm no longer worried that there's a disease or a condition or anything. I admitted it two nights ago, and surprisingly found myself tearing up as I said it, which rarely happens to me.

Medication, energy supplements, hell, my adrenal glands haven't been functioning right for months, explaining my fatigue. I have my philosophy of being happy with however well I do in a situation, but always trying to constantly improve... but now I'm afraid that my limits are lower than someone who has a body that hasn't been scarred from the inside out. Just to do normal things, the way normal people do, I have to down an energy drink or two just to feel awake.

This really turned into a pity party. I didn't mean for it to.

p.s. I know I'm fantastic, haha... thanks for saying so anyways. Now you know that it takes a whole hell of a lot more effort on my part to seem that way. Lol

* * *

 

 

 

_April 23, 2004_

 

 **New album**  
_Posted by TaylorHanson_

Well, I hope all of you went out Tuesday and bought your copy (or two or three) of Underneath. We're really excited to finally have this one out there where you can buy it and listen to it and hopefully fall in love with it.

I know it's been a long time. For those of you who didn't buy the acoustic EP or see us on that tour, it's been even longer. This album has been a long time coming, and no one knows that better than I do. In the next few weeks, we're going to get back out there again and start promoting and getting the music out there not just for you guys, our loyal fans, but for the world. I hope you all understand that, at least at first, I'll have to take things a little slowly, but even something like cancer can't slow me down that much.

 

 

> _Staring at a million city lights_  
>  _But it's still Penny and I all alone beneath the sky_  
>  _Feel the wind brushing slowly by_  
>  _If I could soar I'd try to take these wings and fly_  
>  _Away to where the leaves turn red_  
>  _But no matter where I am instead_  
>  _Singing along to feeling alright_  
>  _We're making it by in the pink moonlight_  
>  _It's always Penny and me tonight_  
>  \-- Hanson, Penny and Me


	11. Served My Time In Pain

 

_June 17, 2004_

 

 

> _“To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything and your heart will be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact you must give it to no one, not even an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements. Lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket, safe, dark, motionless, airless, it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable. To love is to be vulnerable.”_  
>  ― C.S. Lewis, The Four Loves

 

I wanted to make plans with Taylor as soon as I got home from college, but his life decided to interfere with that. Even though he was still hiding under his hat and barely able to pry himself out of bed in the morning, he had interviews, appearances, performances and no time for me. I supposed that was something I would have to get used to and something I had no right to complain about while we still weren't technically together.

When we finally did see each other again, we had dinner early on a Sunday afternoon at Caz's and then spent the rest of the evening at his house, watching our way through his entire DVD collection. It took us a long time to lose all of our clothing that night, but it was inevitable that it would happen again. It was every bit as amazing as the first time, and when Taylor leaned over me, I thought could see a few wispy chest hairs returning.

Afterward, we didn't cuddle. I pulled my underwear back on and curled up under the covers while Taylor rushed off to the bathroom. He wouldn't talk about it, but I knew there were pills upon pills that he had to take, the most important at the moment being the sleeping pill. We still had a few hours to wait for it to take effect, and I wanted to spend every one of those under the covers with him, making up for all the years I'd spent pretending I didn't love him.

“Hey, Lady,” he said, leaning against the doorframe for a moment and staring at me. It didn't matter that I was covered up from the neck down; he still seemed to be drinking in every inch of my body.

He crawled into bed next to me and grumbled about how I hogged the covers. It didn't take us long to get comfortable, though, and soon he was rambling about their plans for a summer and fall tour. I didn't know how Taylor's body was going to handle it, but when he talked about it, it was the only time he really seemed alive.

The only thing that really worried me, selfishly, was that there was no room in his plan for me.

“Lady,” he said, pulling me back from my thoughts. “Why don't you ever look me in the eyes when we talk?”

“I don't?” I asked, trying to be coy, even though I knew he was right. I never made eye contact with anyone.

“You don't,” he said. “And you have beautiful eyes, but you're always hiding them behind your hair. Don't get me wrong, I like that little coy thing, but I'd like to see your eyes once in a while, too.”

“Eye contact makes me nervous, I guess,” I replied.

It was as close to the truth as I felt like getting. It wasn't untrue, either. Eye contact with anyone made me nervous. It felt too intimate, like I was showing parts of me I didn't want anyone to see when they looked in my eyes. I could bare my body to boys whose last names I didn't even know, but I couldn't look someone I'd known since I was seventeen in the eyes.

It was Taylor, though. He was the worst. If he looked in my eyes, he would know I loved him. If I looked in his eyes, I didn't know what I would see. Once upon a time, it was love. What if it wasn't anymore? I was scared to know, and I was scared to let him know.

With a shrug and a coy smile, I closed my eyes and kissed him. For a moment, at least, I could distract us both from any conversation that really mattered. I could only hope he didn't feel the tears welling up in my eyes at the realization that I was so close and still so far from him.

 

 

_July 4, 2004_

 

To: Taylorhanson@hanson.net  
From: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
Subject: fireworks

So I'm pretty mad at myself for making plans tonight, because it means I won't get to watch the fireworks.

I mean, fireworks are nothing really special, but neither is the person I'm going to the movies with. Ha ha.

Anyway, when are you and me gonna get together and make some fireworks of own? You know me, I can never resist making a bad joke.

Happy British-People-Suck Day!

* * *

 

To: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
From: Taylorhanson@hanson.net  
Subject: Re: fireworks

well, I leave for the tour tomorrow, and I've actually decided to start looking for a serious relationship now. I might come home with one, or the beginnings of one.

I don't know lol. It all depends, I guess.

* * *

 

 

 

_July 19, 2004_

 

To: Taylorhanson@hanson.net  
From: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
Subject: hey you

hey love, i haven't talked to you in a while... so i figured i'd send you a message to see how you are, how tour is going, etc...

* * *

 

To: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
From: Taylorhanson@hanson.net  
Subject: Re: hey you

Well... I met a bunch of people. Drank two weekends in a row. Got turned down because one girl "could handle a friend relapsing, but not a boyfriend relapsing" but ended up going out on a date this weekend with a lady from Texas. Wrote some new lyrics... etc. I broke a couple of hearts and made some ladies cry... but lucky me I already feared that would be inevitable.

* * *

 

To: Taylorhanson@hanson.net  
From: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
Subject: Re: Re: hey you

sorry about the broken hearts and what not. and i'm not just saying this, but i don't get the whole "i don't wanna be with you because you're sick" thing. don't think i'm trying to suck up (okay, maybe i am) but i just think if you really cared about someone, leaving them alone when they're sick would be the last thing on your mind.

anyway, enough of me being all sappy and what not.

* * *

 

To: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
From: Taylorhanson@hanson.net  
Subject: Re: Re: Re: hey you

ha, well... it was the first time I've gotten that response. It surprised me.

No sucking up. It's not fair now.

I believe that I'm actually going to start seriously talking to this aforementioned lady from Texas.

* * *

 

To: Taylorhanson@hanson.net  
From: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: hey you

i think i could have gone without knowing that.

guess there's no need to ask when i'll be seeing you again.

* * *

 

To: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
From: Taylorhanson@hanson.net  
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: hey you

'Whenever you want to' so long as it doesn't lead to any romantic involvement. To put it bluntly.

I'm making myself vulnerable to the world again, and in some way, that makes the world vulnerable too. Sorry if it stings a little. It'll hurt me a hell of a lot more if and when this Tulsa-Dallas long distance thingamajig falls through.

* * *

 

To: Taylorhanson@hanson.net  
From: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: hey you

Well to put in it bluntly, I don't think I want to see you again. That's not exactly true, but I'm not going to let myself see you again. Not under these conditions.

Stings a little? You have no idea. Don't talk about this hurting you. I don't wanna hear it.

I guess I should have seen this coming, and I knew it would hurt like hell... but I'm actually fairly surprised right now.

* * *

 

To: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
From: Taylorhanson@hanson.net  
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: hey you

Well. Since we're both being blunt and honest...

I do/did/will like you a lot. For reasons unique to you. Not for what we did. For what we talked about, for the taste you have in music, art, and theater, for how we relate to each other about very dorky things that we really don't give a shit about how dorky they are.

So, yeah... fuck me, is what I say. To me.

It's probably a huge mistake to decide that I even should start to be exclusive with anyone... but I'm not perfect. I'd rather you know that it's because I'm being serious about something, rather than me just going on flirting with everything that moves.

Shitty timing on my part. A few months ago, all I knew was that I needed to distance myself from every possible relationship and just have fun. So, again, fuck me, for not thinking this far ahead.

* * *

 

To: Taylorhanson@hanson.net  
From: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: hey you

Really, hearing about why you like me isn't going to help. I don't see the point in telling me that at all, when it's obvious what you like about me isn't enough.

I'm beginning to think shitty timing is all we're ever going to be. And I don't think I'll ever regret anything as much as I regret how long it's taken me to realize just how much I like you. Except maybe how close I let myself get to you this spring, thinking it might actually lead somewhere.

* * *

 

To: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
From: Taylorhanson@hanson.net  
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: hey you

You know why I fear myself, now. I just hope you don't start sharing in my ability to hate me for that fear, too.

* * *

 

To: Taylorhanson@hanson.net  
From: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: hey you

I don't hate you. You might notice that I've been relatively nice to you about all this, because I just can't see the point in hurting you in retaliation for you hurting me. And there's probably not much I could honestly say to hurt you anyway.

But I don't like you. You're not the same Taylor I used to know and I don't like this guy. Maybe some of that change couldn't be helped, but I want the old Taylor back.

* * *

 

To: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
From: Taylorhanson@hanson.net  
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: hey you

To that, I say, past the hurt and how information is filtered because of it... I am the same guy, just put into more adult situations, with just as little experience and awareness of his own value.

I don't like me, I wouldn't take me serious, I wouldn't want me for any reason more than pity, so why should anyone else?

If I am different. It's because the old Taylor died. Cancer took him, because he was too weak to survive it.

* * *

 

To: Taylorhanson@hanson.net  
From: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: hey you

He may have been weak, but he had his good qualities too. I'd like to believe those aren't entirely gone, but I haven't seen proof of it yet. I'd be inclined to blame this negative change in you on something other than the cancer, though. But that may be my own bitterness and regret talking.

* * *

 

To: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
From: Taylorhanson@hanson.net  
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: hey you

Abandonment would be my next guess, as far as the blame goes.

Either way, it's the scars that only I could try to heal, not my friends or family, that did it.

I shouldn't have let the line between us get nearly as blurry. I shouldn't have done anything with you at all. You do know why I'm afraid of myself, now; why I'm afraid of knowing a human heart so well that I can hurt it without intention.

* * *

 

To: Taylorhanson@hanson.net  
From: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: hey you

You're right. You shouldn't have. And I shouldn't have let myself be so easily persuaded. I know it wasn't your intention to use me... but you can see how that's exactly how I feel now, can't you?

My biggest fear came true, I guess. I was afraid that once we got close, you'd realize I wasn't all you thought I was. That I'd go from being the holy grail to just another broken heart.

* * *

 

To: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
From: Taylorhanson@hanson.net  
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: hey you

Bittersweet note:  
Excluding that stint years ago... You weren't the grail. But you're not just another broken heart.

* * *

 

 

 

_July 20, 2004_

 

To: Taylorhanson@hanson.net  
From: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
Subject: one last thing

I'm sorry to keep messaging you. I just need to ask one thing. Maybe you won't have an answer and maybe I won't like whatever answer you do have, but I've gotta ask and then I'll be done.

You say you fear finality... but is this it? Can I still hold out hope for a day when our timing will be better, or should I just let it go?

* * *

 

To: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
From: Taylorhanson@hanson.net  
Subject: Re: one last thing

There are too many variables to say what anyone should hope for in the future.

I will not burn the bridge between us from my end. If you do, you do it for your own reasons. The only thing I can say about my practices of non-bridge burning, are that I cannot even bring myself to burn the bridges that an enemy could cross to harm me i.e. Hannah.

* * *

 

To: Taylorhanson@hanson.net  
From: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
Subject: Re: Re: one last thing

It takes a lot for me to burn my bridges. Once I do, however, there's rarely any rebuilding possible. Then again, I've taken back three exes in the past, had dates with two of them, and well... then there's us. Maybe actions speak louder than words in this case.

So no, I'm not burning the bridge yet. And I won't, unless you tell me I ought to. I don't like to think that I'll just be waiting here for you to come running back to me... so try to think of it in some way that makes me sound less pathetic.

* * *

 

To: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
From: Taylorhanson@hanson.net  
Subject: Re: Re: Re: one last thing

I do. I don't find you pathetic. I find you similar to me, except better.

If I'm pathetic for keeping my bridges up, and you do the same thing, then I find you untouchable and strong for doing so. Stoic.

* * *

 

To: Taylorhanson@hanson.net  
From: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: one last thing

I like stoic. That's actually a really good word for me, and I'm surprised I hadn't thought of it already.

I have to argue with the notion that I'm a better person than you, though. You and I both have our flaws.

I hope you know that I do want you to be happy. I'd of course prefer to be the one making you happy, but if I can't be... well, then I can't.

* * *

 

To: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
From: Taylorhanson@hanson.net  
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: one last thing

Lady, I want the whole world. I want everything.

When I'm down, I have delusions of grandeur in which I can take the longest shot in the dark and hit my target dead on.

When I'm up, I feel like I deserve to rule the world for being born and tempered with this brilliant mind.

I will never be happy. I will laugh, I will cry, but I will never be satisfied. I am cursed and blessed with the philosophy of making the best better.

I'm telling you this because of all the people I know, you are probably the most likely to understand the vague concepts I'm using to describe the very impossible desire at the core of my being.

* * *

 

 

 

_Aug 7, 2004_

 

To: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
From: Taylorhanson@hanson.net  
Subject: ?

would it be bad for me to say that I'm horribly lonely?  
Or would it be medicine?

what's your take on that?  
I'm a glutton for self-punishment, after all.

* * *

 

To: Taylorhanson@hanson.net  
From: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
Subject: Re: ?

You know I'm back in Tulsa.

Now I wish I wasn't. It would make this decision a lot easier.

What do you want me to say? You know I'm a glutton for punishment, too.

* * *

 

To: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
From: Taylorhanson@hanson.net  
Subject: Re: Re: ?

I want you to be objective.  
It's not an invitation.

I just find it ironic that I'm finally getting comfortable with the idea of a relationship, but I'm not comfortable with being in love. I want a female... best friend or partner.

I'm complaining because I'm having difficulty finding someone worth holding a conversation with that isn't a potential long distance thing. I'm too afraid to go into that sort of relationship.

* * *

 

To: Taylorhanson@hanson.net  
From: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
Subject: Re: Re: Re: ?

I'm not optimistic enough to assume that it was an invitation.

I don't know what to think of your predicament.

Sometimes I think you can't pick and choose who you like just because one person would be more convenient than another, or because one person seems like more of a "sure thing." I don't know. Long distance relationships suck.

I'm not good at being objective. I'm good at being very very subjective. And you know what my answer would have been, if it had been an invitation.

* * *

 

To: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
From: Taylorhanson@hanson.net  
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: ?

In my current hopeless state, I'd like to imagine it would've been "Fuck Off" but I'm smarter than that.

Though I even though I know the behavior, it still doesn't mean I understand it. I'm lame. You do know that, right? lol

I don't want to settle.

I don't want some imaginary perfect woman either.

I want... a partner. It's just a more mature kind of relationship, almost, that I'm looking for.

* * *

 

To: Taylorhanson@hanson.net  
From: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: ?

You're no lamer than I am. Or maybe you are. But you are smart enough to know what my answer would have been, and that answer makes me infinitely lame.

I don't know what I'm looking for, until I find it. Usually I find something that isn't it and try to convince myself that it is. I've never been one for large amounts of romance though. I always go for the more friendly sort of thing. I just like being comfortable with someone, and that doesn't mean romance to me.

I guess a part of me understands what you mean, but most of me doesn't, for various (and mostly obvious) reasons.

* * *

 

To: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
From: Taylorhanson@hanson.net  
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: ?

I'm too afraid of being hurt, and of being able to hurt, to be in a long distance relationship.

My reasoning is... I don't know if my heart is strong enough to handle either. It's only just starting to work again.

My penis... I really could give less than a shit about.

Fuck. I should just write a new song about a girl and have her be my partner. Is that sort of schizo, and would our intimate moments mentally, be a form of 'conversation-masturbation'?

* * *

 

To: Taylorhanson@hanson.net  
From: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: ?

Maybe I've just read too much William Blake, but I think hurt is necessary. You don't appreciate the good as much without it.

I've run out of dateable guys at Cameron, so if I want any kind of relationship, I've got too look elsewhere. It sucks, really.

You know I really would like to see you again, but I think it's probably a bad idea. Forget I suggested it. In fact, don't even consider that a suggestion at all.

* * *

 

To: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
From: Taylorhanson@hanson.net  
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: ?

mind if I consider it a daydream, or wishful thinking instead?

you can consider my desire to be strong enough to handle distance as the same.

* * *

 

To: Taylorhanson@hanson.net  
From: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: ?

I guess you can consider it that. It's probably useless to think about, though.

As I've said, I'm not an optimistic person. My first reaction to you hoping that you could handle long distance? "Well, what good does it do me to think about that?"

At this point, I don't know. Sometimes I think finality would be better than this, even if it didn't have the end result that I'd like.

* * *

 

To: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
From: Taylorhanson@hanson.net  
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: ?

Maybe that's why I fear finality. If I had finality, I'd have to choose a side in my internal war of Ambition and Altruism and stick with it.

I'd side with whichever side my self-loathing fell on.

In a world of infinite possibilities though... finality is impossible. Nothing can be static.

* * *

 

To: Taylorhanson@hanson.net  
From: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: ?

In a world of infinite possibilities, it is just my luck that if I decide not to just sit still and wait, that will be the wrong decision.

At this point, I don't think either of my options will make me happy. One might, in the long run, but we both know how uncertain that is.

Maybe it was a suggestion, even knowing how bad of an idea it would be. But you're probably too smart to take me up on that suggestion.

* * *

 

To: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
From: Taylorhanson@hanson.net  
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: ?

I've come to terms with the fact that I'm too smart to be happy.

* * *

 

To: Taylorhanson@hanson.net  
From: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: ?

What, are you the dude from that cave allegory?

All jokes aside, I know what you mean. Wouldn't it be nice to act on all your desires without your brain (and sometimes heart) interfering? I've tried. Isn't possible.

Randomly, have you seen Big Fish? You might like it.

* * *

 

To: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
From: Taylorhanson@hanson.net  
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: ?

ugh... severe ex memories were just brought up.

Bad timing. Don't wake up on me now.

Yes, I'm talking to my own brain.

I'm going to pop my pills now and pass out.

* * *

 

 

> _We all have memories, and I will serve my time in pain_  
>  _Don't give in to enemies, they'll just leave you with no ring_  
>  _We will find a way somehow through this winding twisting road we've found_  
>  _You won't find me crying for what used to be home, yeah_  
>  _You won't find me trying to burn bridges of stone_  
>  \-- Hanson, Bridges of Stone


	12. All My Scars You Know

 

_August 30, 2004_

 

 

> _Though you take my breath away_  
>  _There's one thing I have to say_  
>  _I'll never love again_  
>  \-- Hanson, Never Love Again

 

To: Taylorhanson@hanson.net  
From: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
Subject: hey there

Hey you. Haven't talked to you for some amount of time that I don't quite recall. Whatever, it's been a while. And I'm holding true to my trying to keep in touch thing this time. So what's new with you? I'm back at Cameron trying to get into the swing of another semester. This semester is actually shaping up to be pretty awesome. Of course, any semester I'm part of would pretty much have to rock. That's just a given. But anyway, let me know how you're doing and what's up and all that.

Adelaide

* * *

 

To: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
From: Taylorhanson@hanson.net  
Subject: Re: hey there

ay bay bay.

yeah, I've been busy with various promo things and doctors appointments. Things seem to be calming down, though.

I'm bored. At home. Sitting here naked because I sleep all day and wake up too late to make plans. I want to hurry up and find a non-boring routine that I can be a part of. I doubt it's going to happen in this town.

I'm writing, breathing, thinking. Which have become three things that have merged, as I can't do one without doing the other two.

I'm not having sex anymore. I have too much going on to do that. I am flirting, but that's usual. Who knows... anything that may/may not startle me into thinking it could be worthwhile will inevitably be long distance, or I'll end up being gone too much for it to be much else. Which isn't something I want to do, as I'm just getting trusting enough to take myself seriously.

* * *

 

 

 

_September 4, 2004_

This was my penance. This was what I'd earned for the way I'd brushed Taylor aside for so long. I convinced myself of that, and that made it a little easier to deal with the fact that we weren't together and weren't going to be together. Maybe not ever. I didn't believe that, though. I had to believe that eventually, he would realize the right girl for him was right in front of him. Eventually he would tire of the girls he met on tour and come home to me.

If I didn't believe that, I would go insane. So I believed it, in spite of any evidence to the contrary.

When I went back to college for the fall, I had absolutely no interest in dating. Why bother? No one would measure up to Taylor. I would wait for him, for as long as it took. No questions asked.

That didn't mean I wasn't going to party, though. I had spent the remainder of the summer, after Taylor's rejection, hiding in my bedroom. I devoured every book in the house and watched entire seasons of old syndicated tv shows, just to occupy my time. I rarely ate; I just had no appetite, and I knew I'd gained weight since starting college anyway. With Dad constantly drunk, I had to stay sober just to keep an eye on him. By the time school started back, I was thinner, but no happier, and ready to _drink_.

I still lived in the on campus apartments, but this time with a new set of girls. It was a good place to party, and I ignored the fact that none of the girls I lived with were as interested in partying as I was. None of them seemed all that impressed by the bottles of vodka I carried in on Saturday night, but I didn't care. That just meant more for me.

At some point, a few of my roommate Callie's friends wandered into the apartment. She was a bit of a tomboy, so all her friends were male. I didn't mind that at all. One of them was kind of cute, with curly ginger hair and a sweet smile, but he didn't even seem to notice that I existed. Instead, a redneck sort of boy named John seemed to be paying the most attention to me. His shaved head reminded me a little too much of Taylor fresh out of chemo. I had no interest in him at all, but I still challenged him to a drinking contest, and to his dismay, I won.

It was hot in the apartment—too hot. I'd stripped down to a tiny pair of shorts and a thin tank top that showed off my new, almost bony figure, but I was still burning up. I didn't feel all _that_ drunk, though. I'd smoked a bowl earlier with Marcus and our on campus dealer, and that seemed to be dulling the effects of the liquor. It wasn't so bad, though. I was having a good time.

“Hey,” John said, leaning against my chair. “Can I sleep in your room?”

I stared at him. “What? No!”

“I don't mean...” he trailed off, giggling. “I just wanna crash on your floor. I'll be good, I promise.”

I didn't trust him. I trusted myself, though. Still, I shook my head and told him he would have to crash with Callie if he was intent on staying. My room was off limits.

“Hey guys!” Abby called out, getting everyone's attention. “Let's play a drinking game. How about.... Never Have I Ever?”

That was a game I always won—or lost, depending on how you looked at it. But I couldn't say no. I was starting to feel a little drunk, though. I poured myself a glass of vodka, rather than taking shot after shot, and took small sips every time I was forced to admit to something I'd done. We only made it a few rounds before the room really began to spin.

I pushed my glass of vodka away from me. “Okay. That's enough for me, guys.”

“Aren't you going to keep playing?” One of the boys asked.

“Sure, but how about John takes my drinks for me? I've had enough.”

John saw no problem with that, naturally, and the game resumed. That was the last thing I remembered.

 

 

_September 5, 2004_

I woke to a strange beeping sound. I wasn't in my dorm bed and it took my eyes several minutes to adjust and process my surroundings.

I was in a hospital.

The door to my room was open, and I could see the nurses station. A few nurses milled around it, but no one seemed to notice me and I didn't see anyone I recognized. How had I gotten there? Had they just dropped me off and left? I was connected to all kinds of tubes and it made me feel sick. A huge bubble of fear rose up inside me and I opened my mouth to scream, but no sound came out. I didn't see any sort of button around that might get the nurses' attention, so I did the only thing I could think of. I banged my hands against the sides of my bed, trashing madly, not caring that I looked like a crazy person.

Seconds later, several nurses came rushing into the room, hovering over my bed and asking what I was wrong. I didn't know. Nothing. Everything. I was scared, and my voice came out only in a harsh whisper. Not knowing what else to do, I asked for my cell phone and tried to dial the first number that came to mind—my mom's.

The screen was blurry and my hands wouldn't cooperate. My fingers felt like they had swollen to twice their size, and they wouldn't do anything I wanted them to do. I started crying, and that only blurred my phone's screen even more.

“What's wrong?” Someone asked. I hadn't even noticed that one of the nurses was still in the room.

“I can't call my mom,” I managed to gasp out between sobs. “I just want to call my mom.”

“I am your mom.”

I blinked. Between the tears, the picture in front of me became clearer. My mom was standing over me, a look of judgment on her face. That only made me cry more; she might have known that I drank, but she didn't need to ever see me like this. I didn't even know how _this_ had happened.

Through sobs, I tried to explain to her that I hadn't meant to do this, that I was in control. I sounded like an addict and I knew it, but I didn't know what else to say. I liked drinking. I'd only drank myself sick twice before, and both times I blamed it more on the greasy food I chose to wash down with liquor, not the amount of the liquor. I rarely got hangovers, and I never blacked out.

Except this time. I couldn't remember anything after I pushed the glass away and stopped.

At some point, mom grew sick of my protests and I had no more words for her. I rolled over and went back to sleep or passed out. There wasn't much difference, since even now, hours later, I was still technically drunk. I tossed and turned, and once I thought I even saw my mom and dad sitting on opposite sides of my room, talking quietly and peacefully. When a nurse came in to draw more blood—from my foot, as they'd apparently exhausted all the veins in my hands and arms—I woke completely and saw that both of my parents really were in the same room for the first time in two years.

Not knowing what else to say, I turned my head toward my mom and slurred, “You know, if you have to get blood drawn, this is definitely the way to do it. I can't feel a thing.”

To my surprise, she did laugh at that. She knew how much I hated needles. I'd kicked a doctor once for daring to prick my thumb with a tiny needle, and then bitten him when he had the nerve to try to put a neon pink bandaid over the wound.

I drifted back out after the nurse was gone, only waking again when Mom insisted. There was a man from poison control who wanted to talk to me. I'd evidently answered the doctor's questions before that, but I didn't remember. It was just as well; his questions were all the same, I was sure, and I hated repeating myself.

“What did you drink?” He stared at his clipboard, his eyes never even leaving the paper to glance at me.

“Vodka.”

“How much?”

I did a quick tally in my head. I remembered seven shots and a few mixed drinks. I lied. “Not much. A few shots.”

“And that was all you drank?”

“Yes.”

“Did you pour the drinks yourself?”

A vision of that guy John pouring a shot for me flashed through my mind. “Yes.”

“And you didn't drink anything else? Mouthwash, rubbing alcohol, anything like that?”

I stared blankly at the guy. What did he think, that I was trying to kill myself? With a growl, I replied, “No. Just vodka.”

That was, thankfully, his last question. After one last check of all my vitals, the doctors finally agreed to release me. Mom and Dad helped me into Mom's car and we drove back to campus. Along the way, she explained that I was still technically drunk, even thought it was the following afternoon, and the doctors had contemplated putting me on dialysis before ultimately deciding that time alone would lower my alcohol levels back to normal. I had already vomited it all up, so they didn't pump my stomach; the IVs I'd been hooked up to were pumping me full of fluids in an attempt to replace all the alcohol in my blood. All those tubes and needles had bothered me so much that I'd yanked most of them a few times; the nurses had wrapped my hands in gauze to stop me. That explained why my hands hadn't done what I asked of them earlier, I realized.

I knew Mom was only giving me the facts because she couldn't bare to be emotional about it. If she was, she would probably do a more efficient job of hurting me than all that vodka had.

Miraculously, I convinced them to let me stay on campus. I couldn't afford to miss class so early in the semester, even though I was sure I would be excused if I told my professors I'd spent the weekend in the hospital. I just couldn't handle the thought of leaving campus with either of them and their judgment. While Mom used the bathroom and prepared to leave, Dad helped me mop up the still damp spot of puke in my bedroom floor and toss my disgusting sheets and blankets in the washing machine.

Once that was done, he stood awkwardly in the door. He opened his mouth to say something, and I could see the judgment in his eyes.

“I really don't need a lecture from the guy I've had to bail out,” I said, the words coming out even more harshly than I expected.

To my surprise, Dad just nodded and gave me a hug.

 

 

_September 20, 2004_

I made a point not to ask my roommates for all the details of that night. They'd filled in a few blanks for me, but that was all. I knew that they had dropped me off at the hospital and stayed for a few hours after calling my parents. I knew that my next door neighbor Tara's boyfriend had been the one to hear me puking in the early hours of the morning and rushed into my room to find me face down on my bed. I knew they'd thrown the empty vodka bottle—had I finished it myself?—in a dumpster down the street before calling campus security and 911.

And I knew that I had slept with that John guy.

I had no memory of it at all. Callie talked to him for me and he promised her that he had no clue how drunk I was, but that we had used protection and he was clean. That really didn't make me feel any better. I didn't want him... at all. If I racked my memory, the only thing I could dredge up from that night was what I thought was a dream of being with Taylor. Had it been John? He had a similar enough build and his bald head _had_ reminded me of Taylor. It still didn't make sense, though. None of that night made sense.

One word kept swirling around in my mind: rape.

Had I been raped? Had I been sober enough, I wouldn't have consented. That made it rape, then. But I didn't remember it. How could I be traumatized by something I had no memory of? It was as if it didn't happen, and that was how I decided to treat it. There had been no John, and I had stayed true to my desire to wait for Taylor.

“Ade?” Callie asked, pulling me from my daze.

I realized I was staring off into space, holding my highlighter at least an inch above the page I was supposed to be reading. We were working on a group project, but my focus wasn't what it used to be. The words “lasting damage” danced around my mind, too, but I had to believe that eventually I'd be my old self again.

“Not to distract from this curriculum standards stuff, but...” she paused and bit her lip. “Umm, nevermind.”

“No, what is it?” I asked, letting the highlighter fall from my hand.

“Well, it's probably nothing, but I was just looking at these pictures of Taylor and...”

I braced myself. Callie was the one person I'd shared the truth with about Taylor and I. She was something of a Hanson fan, but not in a way that made me think it was unsafe to tell her. At the moment, though, it only took a glance over her shoulder to see that her laptop was open to some Hanson gossip site. Taylor's red beanie would have been visible from space.

“It's just, umm,” Callie said. “I think this is his girlfriend...”

She passed the laptop to me and I stared at the screen in disbelief. It wasn't as if I didn't know he was going to date other girls. But here it was, right in front of me. She was short and blonde, not unlike myself, but her hair was stick straight and probably bleached. She had a very round face, and I couldn't tell if it was that or the height making her look so young—or maybe she _was_ young.

“The, umm, the comments said she's only eighteen. She's from somewhere around Tulsa. I mean, that's what people are saying. They might be wrong, but they all seem to agree her name is Samantha. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have even shown you. I don't know why I did.”

I shook my head and handed her the laptop. “It's fine. I needed to know.”

It was anything but fine, though. But this was my penance. Of that I was sure. I could wait as long as it took, even if I had to watch him date a hundred little blondes who weren't me.

 

 

_November 28, 2004_

**Happy Thanksgiving**  
_Posted by TaylorHanson_

Well, if we were in the US right now, it would be Thanksgiving weekend. But we're not. We're in Japan, and it is fantastic to be here again. Although for me, it's pretty good to be anywhere right now. I'm so thankful to all the fans who have stuck with us over the past three years and everything those years have put us all through. And I'm thankful to my friends, family and so on who've supported not just me but the whole band during every bit of it. I miss the turkey, but getting out on stage for you guys once again is a pretty good way to celebrate this holiday if you ask me.

 

 

_Nov 30, 2004_

To: Taylorhanson@hanson.net  
From: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
Subject: hello

I may have checked your website, just out of curiosity to see where you were. Glad to see you're surviving the tour and the holiday. I managed to make it through as well, and surprisingly without strangling anyone for saying stupid things.

It wasn't easy.

So, how are you? I'm temporarily car-less but hopefully that will be remedied soon. Then I have to make it through finals... ugh. But perhaps we'll hang out over the break? That'll be the light at the end of finals week... or something like that.

With that mixed metaphor, I'll end this.

Adelaide

* * *

 

To: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
From: Taylorhanson@hanson.net  
Subject: Re: hello

we should. we shall. it's a deal. I need to not hate everything. it's all up to you to restore my faith!

* * *

 

To: Taylorhanson@hanson.net  
From: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
Subject: Re: Re: hello

Two weeks from now, you, me and fantastic amounts of alcohol. Sound like a plan? I don't know if I can restore your faith, but I can get you well and truly fucked up -- and in good company, I hope.

Adelaide

* * *

 

To: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
From: Taylorhanson@hanson.net  
Subject: Re: Re: Re: hello

sounds extremely worthwhile. I say we barhop. Especially if you're still with someone (a little birdie told me you were), haha.

but, either way, we'll end up crashing back at my place. I won't drive us around, though... so I'll have to find someone else to DD, haha.

* * *

 

To: Taylorhanson@hanson.net  
From: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: hello

You know, I've never barhopped before. Sounds like fun.

For what it's worth, I'm not really "with" anyone right now. It's never been official, and I'm tiring of that fact.

And yes, having a DD is rather essential, if we're going with the barhopping plan. I don't drive drunk, and I won't tolerate it from anyone I'm drinking with.

* * *

 

To: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
From: Taylorhanson@hanson.net  
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: hello

I could probably manage it. I've driven while heavily medicated. I'm just extra careful and slower. But, I don't want to make that my only option. I wish Zac would hurry up and get a decent, reliable car haha.

* * *

 

To: Taylorhanson@hanson.net  
From: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: hello

Oh, I just take issue with drunk drivers in general, given that I lost an aunt and cousin to one. I've driven across campus with two Smirnoff Ices in me, and even that made me feel kinda shitty.

Driving stoned, however, is a totally different story. That, I take absolutely no issue with.

* * *

 

To: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
From: Taylorhanson@hanson.net  
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: hello

Speaking of stoned... I need to drive to Oklahoma City at some point to get stoned for my first time, haha. I have a promise to someone there.

* * *

 

To: Taylorhanson@hanson.net  
From: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: hello

Aww, you ruined my Christmas surprise. I was totally gonna bring a few joints with me, haha. Well, I can't take your virginity, but perhaps we can still smoke together? If you enjoy it, that is.

* * *

 

To: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
From: Taylorhanson@hanson.net  
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: hello

haha.. bring it anyways. the promise is with a girl whom I have a large amount of unspoken sexual tension with. the pot is just an excuse for that to be a fling and we both secretly know it.

at least ours is spoken, haha... so if by the time you come in, I haven't visited her, I probably won't ever. this can only mean that you should bring it anyways, haha

* * *

 

To: Taylorhanson@hanson.net  
From: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: hello

If you hadn't said the girl was in OKC, I'd think you were talking about me, haha. But it's true, ours is spoken. Spoken fairly often, in fact.

I find, as I think I've mentioned before, pot can be very fun when shared with someone whose company you enjoy... if you know what I mean.

I also find that most people don't get stoned the first time they smoke, so maybe I wouldn't really mind being your second...

* * *

 

To: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
From: Taylorhanson@hanson.net  
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: hello

que sera, sera.

* * *

 

 

> _“Out here on the perimeter there are no stars. Out here we is stoned. Immaculate.”_  
>  ― Jim Morrison


	13. My Luckless Romance

 

_December 11, 2004_

 

 

> _“People are afraid of themselves, of their own reality; their feelings most of all. People talk about how great love is, but that’s bullshit. Love hurts. Feelings are disturbing. People are taught that pain is evil and dangerous. How can they deal with love if they’re afraid to feel? Pain is meant to wake us up. People try to hide their pain. But they’re wrong. Pain is something to carry, like a radio. You feel your strength in the experience of pain. It’s all in how you carry it. That’s what matters. Pain is a feeling. Your feelings are a part of you. Your own reality. If you feel ashamed of them, and hide them, you’re letting society destroy your reality. You should stand up for your right to feel your pain.”_  
>  ― Jim Morrison

 

To: Taylorhanson@hanson.net  
From: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
Subject: plans?

You me inebriation?

I'm back in good old Tulsa for at least a week. What say we get intoxicated together? Or we could just hang out and philosophize. Better yet, drunken philosophizing.

It's your call.

Adelaide

* * *

 

To: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
From: Taylorhanson@hanson.net  
Subject: Re: plans?

any damn time this week. Please.

I'm sitting here talking to walls about how I'm trying to be a robot these days. i need to be brought down to earth, drowned in alcohol, or high enough to see the big picture.

what day ma'am?

* * *

 

To: Taylorhanson@hanson.net  
From: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
Subject: Re: Re: plans?

Well I'm tempted to say tomorrow, but I've got a metric fuck ton of cleaning to do around this place. I may be a slob, but even I'm uncomfortable with the grossness dad has let accumulate here.

I'm thinking... Wednesday? I just picked that at random. And I'm resisting the urge to make any "hump day" jokes... oh wait. That didn't really work, did it?

Adelaide

* * *

 

To: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
From: Taylorhanson@hanson.net  
Subject: Re: Re: Re: plans?

let's make it wednesday. haha. 'make it'. that's a bad joke too. it'll be a night in if that's fine with you.

* * *

 

 

 

_December 15, 2004_

It was amazing how easily I could fake happiness when Taylor and I talked. I hadn't expected us to talk much at all after he left for tour and began dating someone else, but we still emailed from time to time. My emails to him were full of lies. I faked happiness, pretended all was well this semester and lied by omission about my hospital stay. When we talked about drinking together, it made me nervous. I still smoked, because that seemed safer somehow, but I hadn't touched a drop of alcohol all semester.

The one thing I didn't lie about was how much I wanted to see Taylor. It hurt to think about, after he'd rejected me, but maybe he'd come to his senses. I knew he'd recently broken up with Samantha. That had to be a good sign. As for me... I hadn't stuck to my plan of celibacy, but I also hadn't developed any feelings at all for the boy I'd spent a few nights with that fall. When he decided to end it, I didn't feel any remorse at all. But that, too, I lied to Taylor about; he knew I was seeing someone, and that was all. If it made him a little jealous, I figured that was the least he deserved.

Dad was out when Taylor came to pick me up, and that was fine by me. I scribbled a short note on a scrap of paper I found on the kitchen counter and hoped he'd see it and be sober enough to read it whenever he stumbled in that night. If not, he'd surely find it in the morning before I got home. Taylor didn't come inside; he sat in his car and watched me walk down the driveway. I could feel his eyes on me the entire time, and as always, it made me nervous.

“I figured we could pick up some booze and some snacks before we head back to my place. There's a liquor store... somewhere around here...” Taylor said as he drove down the street.

He drove fast. Too fast. Morbidly, I thought it was no surprise that he'd had a car accident; it was more of a surprise that he'd only had the one. He wove in and out of traffic as Ben Kweller sang to us on the stereo, and minutes later, we'd found our way to a liquor store just as he said.

I still didn't want to drink, but I didn't tell him that. We compromised and he bought something for each of us – a big bottle of green apple vodka for him and a case of wine coolers for me. I could sip on those, I figured. That would be safe.

Taylor shifted to a classic rock station we we hit the highway, and I let Jim Morrison's voice wash over me. It was already late, the first few stars just starting to pop up in the sky and I stared at them through the window. Moments later, Taylor took an unexpected exit and steered into the parking lot of a Wal-Mart.

“For the munchies,” he said, adjusting his hat before stepping out of the car.

I had to roll my eyes at that. Taylor was so unexpectedly innocent when it came to certain things, things I would have expected him to have been exposed to somewhere along the way in his career. He'd lived in much more of a bubble than I'd realized, and wasn't nearly the dangerous risk that I remembered categorizing him as when we were younger. Now I was the bad influence, and it was a roll I wasn't entirely comfortable with.

We made our way to the grocery section and picked out a variety of chips and snack cakes. It all felt so cheesy, but there was a reason that stereotype was associated with stoners. Living in the apartments on campus, with a full kitchen, I was more likely to cook a full meal when I was stoned, but if Taylor wanted the typical cheetos and twinkies, I wasn't going to tell him no.

Our arms loaded down with snack foods, we made our way back to the front of the store. We hadn't made it far when two girls veered toward us with smiles on their faces. For a moment, I wondered if they were fans, but I'd seen Taylor greeting fans. This was different. These girls – Shana and Lauren, apparently – were friends of his. Shana eyed me critically when Taylor introduced me, and I could see that she was sizing him up.

In an instant, I realized that they had slept together, and it made me want to claw her eyes out. She wasn't pretty enough for me, and she was _definitely_ too young for him. But more than that, she wasn't me. I didn't want her anywhere near him.

To my utter embarrassment, Taylor told her about our plans for the night. She told him we should bring our stuff over to her house, since she was having a party. I was surprised and relieved when he gave her a noncommittal answer. I had no doubt that we wouldn't be going to her party. It would be just me and him.

A few minutes later, we were back at Taylor's house. Like underage kids, we stuffed the alcohol under our coats and scurried into the pool house. While I put my wine coolers in the refrigerator, he searched for an ash tray. I was pleased, at least, that it took him a while to locate him; apparently actually getting cancer was what it took to make him give up that habit.

Callie said I should feel bad for encouraging Taylor to pick up a drug habit. I had simply reminded her that other states _gave_ pot to cancer patients. I was helping him. It was the least I could do.

“Okay, so how does this work?” He asked, turning the joint I'd pulled out of my purse over in his hand and squinting at it.

“Well, first you light it,” I replied, handing him the little purple lighter I'd bought on the drive home. “It's sort of like smoking a cigarette, but you're wait for it to _really_ start to burn. It'll ease off, but don't exhale. Hold your breath until it starts to burn again or you just really can't breath. You will cough. Everyone does at first.”

Taylor nodded, but I wasn't entirely sure that he'd digested everything I'd said. Still, he lit the joint and carefully pulled it to his lips, looking like he'd never held a cigarette before in his life. If I hadn't known better, I wouldn't have ever believed he was the boy who'd accidentally blown his smoke in my face outside a concert just three years ago. But he was... somewhere deep inside, he was. I had to believe that, or it wasn't worth fighting to be with him at all.

We passed the joint back and forth until it was nothing but a tiny stub that neither of us could hold without burning our fingers. Taylor flicked it into the ashtray, then walked to the kitchen to retrieve our drinks. He drank straight from his bottle, while I sipped daintily on a wine cooler. I'd gotten three joints from Marcus, without telling him about my plan to smoke with Taylor, so we smoked the second in between drinks.

“Well? Do you feel it?” I asked.

Taylor stared off into the distance for a moment, then shrugged. “I don't know. What am I supposed to feel?”

“Kind of... fuzzy around the edges. Slower. Some things will feel way more in focus than other things. It's hard to explain.”

“I don't feel any different,” he replied. “Maybe a little buzzed, but that's not the same thing, is it?”

I shook my head. “No, but not everyone really feels it the first time. Mixing it with alcohol probably isn't helping.”

“Too late,” he said, picking up his bottle and taking another swig.

I made it through only three wine coolers before I decided to call it quits. I could tell Taylor was farther gone than he wanted to let on, so I told him he could keep the lighter and the third joint for himself. A Christmas gift.

Setting his vodka bottle down safely in the floor, he laid back on the bed and finally took off his hat. He had hair again; I'd been able to see a few wisps of it peeking out earlier. It was darker than I remembered and it didn't seem to curl as much. I wanted to run my fingers through it, but I didn't think he would like that. Instead, I just laid down beside him, close but not quite cuddling.

“How much college do you have left?” Taylor asked suddenly. It was random, but random wasn't surprising coming from him.

“A year and a half, I hope,” I replied. “I really didn't do so well the first year or so... but I may be able to finish on time.”

“What will you do after you graduate?”

“I don't know. Teach? That's what I'm studying to do, but god knows if I'll pass all the classes and the exams and... I don't know. We'll see.”

“A normal life,” Taylor remarked. “I can see you as a teacher, actually. A sexy teacher, but... a teacher.”

I rolled my eyes. “I don't know that I would ever call myself normal.”

“More normal than me.”

“Maybe,” I replied. “Normal's overrated, though.”

“Even before... everything... I don't think I ever saw myself having a normal life. I mean, I always wanted to be in the spotlight. Not famous just for being famous, but I wanted to be _somebody_. Those kind of people don't have normal lives. They don't settle down, get married, have the kids and the house with the picket fence.”

“So if that's _not_ what people like you do, why not buck the trend and do it? Be different by being normal.”

Taylor smirked. “You're a clever one, Lady. I like you.”

I didn't reply. Somehow, those words were like a knife to my heart.

“So, what about you, then?” He asked. “What's in your future? Settling down with that guy you were seeing?”

“I'm not seeing anyone,” I replied. “It wasn't... anything serious. And he knew that, but he still felt the need to 'let me down gently' a few days ago. As though I was in love with him and he was breaking my heart. I wasn't, and he wasn't.”

Taylor nodded slowly. “So, not with him. But can you see it?”

“I'd like to. I can't, though. I thought I did once... with someone. But only because he was what I was supposed to want. It would have been the perfect little life, you know? Money, a nice house, a nice looking husband. But it just... I don't know, I think I did love him, but not enough. Not the way you need to love someone to spend your life with them.”

Taylor chuckled. “You're a romantic, Lady. I wouldn't have expected that.”

“I don't think I am,” I replied. “But I guess... being in love is nice. I want that. More than the normal two point five kids and a picket fence thing, I just want love. So maybe I am a romantic.”

“Love isn't what makes a marriage work anyway,” Taylor said. “I suppose it helps, but... you have to be good partners, you know? More than anything else. It's a business deal. Find someone you can live with, someone you can put up with day in and day out, someone you can see eye to eye with and raise kids together.”

“That's pretty cynical. Where's the guy who used to write all those love songs?”

Taylor looked away from me and chewed on his lip for a moment. “I told you. He died.”

Not wanting to go down that road, I grasped the first different subject that came to mind. “What about that girl you were seeing?”

“She just started college,” he replied. “Didn't want anything serious anymore. Neither did I, and I think we both went into it knowing it wasn't going to be serious, but... well, we both had to get out before it got serious without our consent.”

“So you still don't want anything serious?”

“Not right now,” he said. “Someday... maybe. But by then, I'll be looking for a partner. Not just a fling, not some romantic ideal I don't believe in. Just someone to live my life with.”

I nodded. I could feel my bottom lip quivering and tears pooling in my eyes. I didn't even know why I was tearing up. He hadn't said that I _wasn't_ that partner, but how long would I have to wait to know?

“Hey, lady,” Taylor said, sitting up suddenly and staring me down.

“Yeah?”

He stared at me a moment longer, and I was surprised that the emotion in his eyes was easy to identify. Lust. In seconds, his hands were on either side of my face and his lips were pressed firmly against mine. I was certain that he'd said something earlier about being too tired to fuck, but evidently he'd changed his mind. Maybe he just wanted to kiss, though. I didn't know, but the way he was pushing me backward said that wasn't the case. He only relented when I crashed into the headboard, and even then, he only pulled back to start taking off his own clothes.

Something about the whole thing felt a little wrong, but I couldn't tell Taylor no. I pulled my clothes off quickly while he wandered off, presumably in search of a condom. When he returned, he was almost predatory in the way he climbed across the bed toward me. Was this what drunk Taylor was like? I wasn't sure I liked him, but I wasn't sure I liked _anything_ about who Taylor was now.

Still, I wanted to commit everything about this moment to memory. I had no clue when I would even see Taylor again and if he would want to have sex then. His eyes were squeezed shut, making it that much easier to blatantly stare at him. There was a thin, pale blonde patch of hair on his chest, and trailing down his stomach. I'd never really thought about a how nice a happy trail could look, but Taylor's... maybe it was just because it was new, at least to me. He was changing before my very eyes, it seemed. I wondered if I would even recognize him the next time I saw him.

The sex didn't last long, and he apologized profusely for that, blaming it on the alcohol. He took another swig of said alcohol before collapsing face down onto the bed next to me, still completely naked.

“You and me, Lady,” he said, “we make good partners.”

 _Partners._ He'd used that word to describe the sort of relationship he wanted. Was he trying to tell me something? I wanted to ask, but I was scared. It didn't matter, anyway. His eyes were closed and his breathing steady. He'd fallen asleep or passed out – either way, the result was the same.

I carefully pulled my underwear back on and pulled his blanket over our bodies. We'd only had a small lamp on to light the room, and I didn't bother turning that off before curling up next to him. When I saw that none of my movements had disturbed him, I took a risk and reached out to touch him. He didn't flinch. I let my hand run up and down his smooth back, then across his head, touching his soft, thin hair. There was a small bald patch over his surgery scar, and I supposed it would always stay that way.

How had I never noticed how beautiful he was? It almost felt as though it had taken the cancer to reveal his beauty to me. He was puffy, he claimed, thanks to the steroids, but all I saw was pale skin and hard angles. That was all he was, I supposed. Hard angles. There was nothing soft and forgiving in him anymore. Like he kept trying to tell me, that guy was dead.

I didn't know if I loved the boy he used to be or the man he was now, but it didn't really make a difference. I'd still never felt a pain as bad as lying next to him and knowing that he wasn't mine. While he slept peacefully, I buried my face in the pillow and cried.

 

 

> _Tell me where I begin_   
>  _You can't deny what's already been_   
>  _I won't break but I can bend_   
>  _Shaping the scars that I can't mend_
> 
> _Feel your fingers around my throat_  
>  _There's nothing but bones beneath my skin_  
>  _Somebody break my fall_  
>  _I'm slipping on down all over again_  
>  \-- Hanson, My Own Sweet Time


	14. The Sweetest Sadness In Your Eyes

 

_December 27, 2004_

 

 

> _“I think it's impossible to really understand somebody, what they want, what they believe, and not love them the way they love themselves.”_  
>  ― Orson Scott Card, Ender's Game

 

To: Taylorhanson@hanson.net  
From: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
Subject: merry xmas

How are you enjoying that new macbook? Have I mentioned I'm totally jealous?

Anyway, I guess I should come back and get those wine coolers at some point... assuming that you haven't given them away or gotten desperate enough to drink them yourself.

So, you got any plans for the next week or so? I'll probably be back in Tulsa before New Years. We should get together again, I think. Let me know what you think.

* * *

 

To: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
From: Taylorhanson@hanson.net  
Subject: Re: merry xmas

Sure, if you want to. I want to have a little shindig on new years, but I doubt I'll have the energy or the time to plan it. Or the motivation.

But who knows. Either way, if you call or just show up, you won't be turned away.

I like my macbook a lot. I've always preferred macs, but we usually had them just for business stuff, not for pleasure. This one is alllll mine.

* * *

 

 

 

_December 31, 2004_

Although we had made no specific plans, Taylor had talked a lot about having a party on New Year's Eve. I didn't know that many of his friends; we had a few mutual friends years ago but since leaving for college, I'd lost touch with most of those. What would it be like to meet _his_ friends? I didn't know. It made me nervous, but I was excited, too. I got up early, earlier than I normally did during Christmas break and took special care about fixing my hair and picking out an outfit.

I didn't know why it mattered, since we didn't even have any definite plans. But I couldn't imagine going to see Taylor without trying to look my best. I knew I didn't look like I did in high school anymore. I'd gained and lost the same fifteen pounds every year of college, and even though there should have been no lasting effects, I knew I didn't look the same since that hospital visit I'd neglected to tell Taylor about. I simply wasn't the same Lady he'd fallen in love years ago, so I _had_ to take the extra time to look as good as I could now.

Even though he swore he wasn't, I was reasonably certain that Dad was still seeing Misty. I didn't feel like dealing with that, so once I'd gotten myself prettied up, I scribbled a quick note that I was going to Taylor's house and left. In reality, I ended up just driving around the streets of Tulsa trying to will my heart to beat a little more slowly. When I gradually started making my way to the outskirts of town, in the general direction of the little town he lived in, I decided to give Taylor a call.

“Hello?” A voice mumbled into the phone.

“Hey,” I replied in a far more cheerful tone than I knew I was even capable of. “You still planning on having a party tonight?”

“I... what? Oh, this is Zac. Taylor's in the shower.”

Even though he couldn't see me, I felt my face turning bright red with embarrassment. “Sorry, umm... can you just tell him to call me back when he's done?”

He promised that he would, and we quickly said goodbye. Not knowing how long it would take Taylor to call me back, I turned down a side street and took my time driving around a neighborhood that I didn't really even know at all. I vaguely recalled that I was near the area where Taylor had grown up, but I wouldn't have known his childhood house if I had been right in front of it. I knew very little about his life before we met; so much of what I knew about Taylor at all was based on his reputation. I didn't think there would ever be a time when we weren't trying to catch up and get to know each other all over again.

Finally, when I had thought myself almost to the point of tears, my cell phone rang again. I took just a second to compose myself, then answered.

“Hello?”

“Heard you were flirting with my brother earlier,” Taylor said.

“I wasn't! He just... do you know he sounds _just_ like you on the phone?”

Taylor chuckled. “Yeah, I know. I was just kidding, Lady. He told me you called.”

“Well, I was just... I just wanted to see if you were still going to have a party tonight.”

“It was never really definite... I just can't tonight. I only woke up right before I got in the shower,” he replied. “You can come over, though. But I don't know if I have the energy to put on anything fancier than these sweatpants, so...”

Even though I was afraid of an honest answer, I asked, “Do you want me to come over?”

“Yeah, Lady. Come on.”

That was all it took to convince me. It was fairly late in the afternoon by that point, so we decided just to stay in and watch movies at his house. There would be no party, just the two of us and maybe some of his siblings. I wasn't sure how I felt about that, either, especially after having made such an idiot of myself on the phone with Zac. But as long as I got to see Taylor, I decided that I could handle anything else.

When I pulled into Taylor's driveway, I could see him already standing out in the grass between the main house and the pool house. I steered my car toward him, coming to a stop just a few yards from where he stood. Even with his winter coat on, he looked frail, and he was, as he had warned me, only wearing old sweatpants.

“Where are you going?” I asked after I stepped out of my car.

He shrugged. “Just over to the main house. I figured everyone would want to order pizzas, since Mom's not around to cook. She's helping out with some church lock-in that the little ones are going to.”

“So how many people actually make up the 'everyone' that's left?” I asked, mentally trying to tally the guest list for our little party.

“You, me, Dad and Zac. Ike's out with his latest girlfriend, whose name I honestly can't remember because she looks exactly like the last three.”

I chuckled. “Do you even try to learn their names?”

“Not at all,” Taylor replied. “Come on, Lady.”

We made our way into the main house, and it felt like deja vu to me. It had been years since I'd been in their house, but nothing about it had changed. There might have been a few less children's toys scattered around now that the kids were getting older, but other than that, I really couldn't tell a difference. Zac and their father, who I'd only met in passing before, were already planted on the couch with the Fellowship of the Ring playing on the television in front of them.

“Well, where did you find this pretty little thing?” Walker—I recalled being instructed _never_ to call him Mr. Hanson the first time we met—asked.

Taylor turned around to look at me and let out a fake gasp. “Who let you in?”

I felt myself blushing, and I gave him a gentle nudge, immediately hating myself for it. He was still so thin, despite the color returning to his face and the hair that had grown back. What if even that gentle shove left a bruise? Taylor didn't seem to even notice, though. He re-introduced me with a rather embarrassing reminder of the fact that I'd taken Zac to my senior prom, then promptly flopped down on the couch without even offering me a seat.

I couldn't help feeling a little offended at that, but I knew we weren't dating. It was awkward enough to be around his dad and brother, so I tried not to be surprised or hurt that Taylor was playing it particularly casual. Soon enough, we were all occupied by trying to figure out our pizza order and Walker's casual banter, as though he'd known me for years, diffused some of the awkwardness.

By the time the second movie had started, we were halfway through the numerous boxes of pizza we'd ordered. Walker had offered us all drinks, even Zac, and I'd reluctantly accepted a few wine coolers. Taylor had chugged several beers, but he didn't seem all that drunk. He was, however, gradually growing closer to me, his long legs slung casually across my lap. I rested my head on his shoulder, and we remained that way for the rest of the movie.

As we grew closer and closer together, our bodies fitting together easily, I started to feel more comfortable. It was still strange to be there with Walker and Zac, but maybe things between Taylor and I weren't so bad after all.

 

 

_January 1, 2005_

The clock ticked over to midnight at some point during the third movie, and none of us even noticed. After the movie ended, I glanced at the clock on the DVD player, and was surprised to see that it was already officially 2005. Another year had passed me by without a kiss at midnight. I guess Taylor was right; I was a romantic. For some reason, I had always wanted that New Year's Eve kiss, and I'd never gotten it. I'd had hopes of that changing this year, but it hadn't.

Taylor looked like he was close to falling asleep beside me, his legs still stretched across mine. I gave him a little nudge and said, “Movie's over.”

“You going home or heading back to my place?” He asked, and it hurt to realize that he even thought there was a chance of me leaving.

“Your place,” I replied just as softly, wondering if Taylor could hear all the mixed emotions I was feeling.

He didn't seem to notice, but we fell back into complete casualness, not even standing close enough to touch, as we said goodnight to Zac and Walker and made our way out to the pool house. Taylor stayed several steps ahead of me, thanks to his long legs, and I didn't bother trying to practically jog to catch up with him.

Taylor slowed down a little once we were actually inside the pool house. I followed him into the bedroom and took a seat on the bed as he fumbled around in his dresser drawers. A moment later, he turned around and handed me a t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants.

“They're probably too big, but I figure you don't want to sleep in your clothes...” He trailed off with a shrug, then turned and began to walk toward the door.

“Where are you going?”

Taylor spun back around to face me, his face strangely devoid of emotion. “I'm going to sleep on the couch. You can have my bed.”

I felt my heart drop the floor. I knew we hadn't been that cozy or flirty all night, but I hadn't expected him to refuse to even sleep next to me. For a moment, I just stared up at him, not knowing what to say. When I managed to gain a little bit of my composure, I forced my lips into a flirty pout and widened my eyes.

“Please, Tay... we don't have to _do_ anything. Just stay in here.”

He shook his head. “That's the problem. I don't trust myself around you, Lady. You know we won't be able to resist temptation.”

“Why should we?” I asked, willing my voice not to turn into the pitiful whine that I could hear and feel bubbling up in my throat.

Taylor glanced back into the living room toward the couch, then back at me. With a tiny sigh, he took a few steps back into the bedroom. “Alright, lady. You win this time.”

He flipped the light off before making his way over to the bed. With the light off, I couldn't see the strange way he looked at me, and I decided I liked that better. He'd asked me before why I never looked him in the eyes, and it was because I never understood what I saw looking back at me. Whatever it was, that emotion I was afraid to put a name to, it was too intense. But in the dark I didn't have to see it.

In the dark, we made small talk like old friends, and I tried to ignore the fact that our bodies were entwined together casually, like they just belonged that way.

“So,” Taylor said. “When do you go back to college?”

“In a week and a half,” I replied. I wanted to ask if I would see him again before I left, but I was afraid of the answer.

“That's about the time we'll be flying off to Europe.”

“Oh.” What else could I say to that?

Taylor ran his hand absently through my hair, almost like his hand was just going through the motion on its own, totally independent of his brain. Maybe he was right. Maybe we couldn't resist temptation. “I don't know when we'll be back to Tulsa...”

I nodded, still unsure what I could really contribute to this conversation.

“You and me, Lady...” He said, chuckling softly. I wasn't sure where his train of thought had veered off to, but it was obvious that only part of it had been spoken aloud. He trailed a finger along the side of my face, down my neck... the neckline of his own shirt that I'd changed into while he didn't even bother to avert his eyes... “We're something else, aren't we?”

“What do you mean?”

“I think, no matter what else is going on, we're gonna always come back to each other like this.”

I had hoped, over and over, that he was right. To hear Taylor admit it... none of my literature classes had given me the vocabulary to capture that feeling, the way my heart soared at just a few simple words from him.

“I mean, even if we were seeing other people... do you think we could really resist each other now?”

And just like that, my heart dropped. He was only talking about sex, not love.

“Probably not,” I admitted, staring intently at his shoulder. If I couldn't meet his eyes before, I had no desire to now.

“Why should we fight it, then?” He asked. “I think we could make this work for us.”

I could only stare questioningly at him as I fought the urge to cry.

“Friends with benefits,” he stated proudly, as though he were a genius for thinking of it. “I know I won't be around all the time, but I can promise that whenever I am and you call, I'll be there. It'll work the other way, too.”

“I do have classes to attend, you know,” I replied as casually as I could, but I couldn't even fake flirtatiousness then.

“I know,” Taylor replied. “But when we can, we'll get together. If we start seeing other people... well, we'll worry about that if it happens. But I don't know if that would stop me from still calling you. What do you say?”

I hated myself for even considering it. For a moment, I could envision it perfectly. I could see Taylor's version of our relationship. We would never be anything more than an affair. It was the sort of relationship that sounded romantic in theory—two star-crossed lovers meeting secretly throughout the years. Maybe they would remain single but come together when their schedules permitted. Maybe they would marry others but still be unable to resist each other.

But these weren't two characters in a story I was writing. This was my life.

And I couldn't do it.

There might have been something romantic about this vision of us as nothing but bad timing, just meeting up whenever we could. But what was the point? We could be together now. There was nothing standing in our way. Yet Taylor was still choosing to keep me at arm's length.

“I don't think I like that idea,” I finally replied, my voice a pitiful whisper filled with tears.

Taylor nodded as thought he understood perfectly the battle I was fighting inside myself, but I knew he didn't. His hand continued its descent down my side, his fingers tapping out the melody to some song as they slipped under my shirt.

I wanted to stop him. But I didn't.

Taylor was uncharacteristically talkative as he moved on top of me. He murmured sweet words, how beautiful I was, how good it felt to be with me, but they all felt like poison darts straight to my heart. Whether he meant them or not, it didn't matter. We weren't together and we weren't going to be. I could see that clearly now. He had to know how much he meant to me. It was almost like he was taunting me with what I wanted but still holding it at arm's length from me.

He'd barely even rolled the condom off before I started crying.

“Lady? What's wrong? Did I hurt you?” He reached for my arm and I shrugged away from him, rolling over onto my back so he wouldn't see me cry more than he already had.

“No,” I replied, then sighed. “Yeah. But not... not... I mean, the sex was fine.”

“The sex was better than fine,” Taylor said, running his hand up and down my arm. “You're still the best I've ever had.”

“You said that months ago.”

“I've been with a few more girls since then.”

I tried to fight back a sob. “I'm still the best, but I'm not the holy grail. And I'm not enough for you to just be with me.”

“What do you want from me?” Taylor asked softly, the words a genuine question, not an accusation.

Genuine as it might have been, I couldn't answer it. How could he not know?

“Lady,” he said. “You know I love you. But I'm not _in love_ with you.”

“Yeah. I know.”

Only seconds later, I felt Taylor's soft snores against my shoulder, and I knew there would be no more conversation. I couldn't tell him I loved him. I mouthed the words into the darkness around me, but I could not say them out loud for fear that they would wake Taylor. If he didn't love me the way that I was realizing I loved him, then I could not say it.

When I woke up the next afternoon, it felt like I was in a different world. Even though I was still beside Taylor, I knew this was it. This was the last time I would see him like this and last night was the last time we would ever sleep together. We would never be truly together; he had made that perfectly clear.

I didn't try to kiss him goodbye, and he didn't offer me a kiss. It was probably better that way. I could still feel his every touch like they were all branded into my skin anyway. With the memory of his touch and his kiss still on my skin, I drove away and knew without a doubt that it would be the last time.

I hadn't even made it to the end of his driveway before I began to cry, and my tears didn't stop for the rest of the day.

 

 

> _I never want to see you unhappy_   
>  _I thought you'd want the same for me_
> 
> _Goodbye, my almost lover_  
>  _Goodbye, my hopeless dream_  
>  _I'm trying not to think about you_  
>  _Can't you just let me be?_  
>  _So long, my luckless romance_  
>  _My back is turned on you_  
>  _I should've known you'd bring me heartache_  
>  _Almost lovers always do_  
>  \-- A Fine Frenzy, Almost Lover


	15. Searching For An Answer On A Satellite

 

_February 2, 2005_

 

 

> _I stand here rediscovering_   
>  _bridges I thought had burned,_   
>  _each stone a memory not forgotten._   
>  _We'll call the ashes "mistakes"_   
>  _and "lessons learned."_
> 
> _We built this bridge together,_   
>  _but surely your side stands_   
>  _steadier than mine._   
>  _Weren't you the confident one?_   
>  _Have my steps become_   
>  _steadier than yours?_
> 
> _I cannot see from here_  
>  _if you stand still at the edge_  
>  _or take your steps away from me._  
>  -Bethany H., 2008

 

To: Taylorhanson@hanson.net  
From: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
Subject: poke?

Hey you. We haven't talked for a while now. Getting ready for the tour?

I am intensely stoned right now and writing poetry. I've been consumed by poems constantly writing themselves in my head for the past few days.

Anyways... tell me about your life right now.

* * *

 

To: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
From: Taylorhanson@hanson.net  
Subject: Re: poke?

Touring, promotions, the usual.

Also, i'm seriously considering getting a tattoo soon.

* * *

 

To: Taylorhanson@hanson.net  
From: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
Subject: Re: Re: poke?

Sounds like fun.

what's the tattoo design? i've been kicking around a few ideas, my favorite one incorporating the "doors of perception" idea from william blake. i'm such a nerd.

i totally forgot i sent you the original email and was really surprised to see something from you in my inbox.

* * *

 

To: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
From: Taylorhanson@hanson.net  
Subject: Re: Re: Re: poke?

Something about duality, how there's good and bad in everything...

i'm a fan of wings to depict the divine (be it divinely good or evil), and an apple to depict mankind

we'll see

* * *

 

 

 

_March 3, 2005_

Sometimes I had really mixed feelings about rooming with a Hanson fan. I knew Callie meant well, but she couldn't resist spending all of her free time surfing Hanson websites and celebrity gossip sites for all the latest news and rumors. Even though she was a fan, she was the only one of my friends I trusted with Taylor's true identity. It didn't make sense, really, but I just knew I could trust her. When Taylor wasn't even replying to my emails, or only sending a few short sentences, Callie was my lifeline. It was a blessing and a curse.

During class, she had sent me a text that said simply “Taylor news.” I knew what that meant, so a soon as I left the one class we didn't share, I hurried back to our apartment and burst into her room.

“What's the news?” I asked.

Callie glanced up from her laptop. “Well, you knew they were going to Mexico, right? They're there now.”

“Please don't tell me he's got some little Mexican girlfriend.”

“No,” she replied, shaking her head. “But there were rumors that they were doing these college appearances, promoting the whole documentary thing. It was all really last minute and didn't really get announced to the fans. Pics turned up of them at the University of Texas, and... well, there are a couple of Taylor with some girl. It looks like the one he was dating before.”

At that, she turned the laptop toward me so I could see the candid shots she was talking about. I didn't really need to see them to be sure. Thanks to this brand new website called Facebook, I had already done a little stalking of my own and uncovered the profile of one Samantha Sauer, freshman at the University of Texas and originally from Tulsa. Sure enough, the girl standing a little too close to Taylor in a shot taken without their knowledge in what appeared to be the college library was the very same little mousy blonde. Her stick straight hair was now in loose curls, and she wore an outfit I had to admit was really cute; it was something I would have worn myself. In fact, she looked more like a younger version of myself than I had realized before. It made me feel a little ill to realize it. Taylor had just... _replaced_ me.

I took a deep breath, then looked back at Callie. “Is that all? Just pictures? Nothing else I should know...?”

“It's all just gossip,” she replied. “I mean, there's _tons_ of debate over whether she's really his girlfriend or not. Apparently someone asked and he just brushed them off, but these pictures kind of speak for themselves. Someone even says she saw them kiss. But you never really know how much to believe these kind of girls, you know? The ones who basically stalk them aren't the most trustworthy... or stable... ones.”

I nodded. “I'm so glad I've never had to deal with any of them.”

“Have you ever thought about it? I mean, what it would be like if you guys _were_ together and you did have to deal with fans?”

“Sometimes,” I replied with a sigh. “I think that's part of why I was so hesitant the first time... it just seemed so scary to get involved with him, and honestly, I wasn't a Hanson fan at all. But you grow up in Tulsa and you know how nuts their fans are. You know what you're getting into just by associating with anyone in that family. I guess I was lucky that it all missed me, but... it missed me because I've only ever been Taylor's dirty little secret. So I guess it cuts both ways.”

Callie gave me a sympathetic look, but I could see that she truly didn't have any reply to that. What could she say? She might have been a Hanson fan, but she didn't really know what it was like to be in Taylor Hanson's life. I let out a sigh of relief as she turned her laptop back around to herself, glad that the conversation was finally over.

Once the gossip session was done, we settled in to work on our lesson plan assignments, but another thought was brewing in the back of my mind. It was something I'd been considering for a while–a haircut. I had this tendency to chop my hair off whenever I got out of a relationship; something about giving myself a little makeover made the heartbreak easier to deal with. Even thought Taylor and I had never truly dated, it seemed like a good time to, literally and figuratively, get him out of my hair.

“Hey, Cal,” I said. “What do you say we take a break? Get some Taco Bueno and maybe... make a trip to the salon?”

She tilted her head to the side in thought. “Well, I do need to get my eyebrows waxed, but... what brought this on?”

I shrugged. “Just something I've been thinking about. I think it's time for a change.”

Callie didn't seem entirely convinced, but she was more than willing to take a break from the lesson plans. It was only a short drive to a salon that I knew gave discounts to college students and rarely had a long wait. If I had time to wait, I would talk myself out of it.

We only sat there for a few minutes before the stylist took us into the back. Her assistant sat Callie down in a chair to do her eyebrows while I explained that I wanted my hair gone. Just... gone. I didn't even care how short; I needed a _big_ change.

This was no different from any other haircut I'd ever gotten. The stylist went on and on about my beautiful hair and natural curls, and mourned the loss of so much length more than I did. It didn't matter to me at all. I only grew it long and wild because it was easier than trying to style it. I had no particular attachment to my long hair, and I felt no remorse as it fell to the floor.

“Oh, we should have measured this!” The stylist practically whined. “I'm sure it would have been long enough to donate, but I hadn't swept the floor... now it's all mixed in with other hair...”

She trailed off in a sigh, and I fought the urge to roll my eyes. With as much of a smile as I could manage, I replied, “Maybe next time.”

“I'm sure your hair grows fast enough that it won't be long until then,” she replied, finally snipping off another section. “When it does get long enough, you should definitely think about Locks of Love.”

“Yeah. I will.”

Right then, though, all I was thinking about was Taylor. I knew that not all of those donations went to cancer patients, but that was the immediate thing that Locks of Love brought to mind for anyone. It seemed that there would always be something to remind me of Taylor. I just couldn't escape him.

And a part of me wasn't even sure that I wanted to.

Even though I had to accept that whatever we had between us was over and we would never be together, I couldn't seem to entirely cut him out of my life. I kept finding excuses to email him and try to remain in his life in some way, pathetic as it was. I just couldn't let him go, not yet.

After what seemed like forever, the haircut was finally done and the stylist spun the chair around so that I could see myself. From behind me, I heard Callie gasp. My hair was _short_. It came to just above my chin, falling in gentle waves that made me look like a flapper or something. It was so different from anything I'd ever imagined, and I loved it.

I knew it wouldn't really remove Taylor from my life, but it was a start toward being a different person. I didn't even look like me anymore, and I decided that was a good thing. I wasn't so sure I wanted to be the same girl who had fallen for Taylor Hanson.

 

 

_April 17, 2005_

To: Taylorhanson@hanson.net  
From: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
Subject: Taylor Fucking Hanson!

I feel like we haven't talked in ages. Isn't that always the case with us?

Chelsea asked me how you were doing the other day, and I had no answer for her. (Cue your Chelsea jokes)

But seriously, how are you? Still enjoying the tour? Got any new musical plans? Other general questions about your wellbeing and happiness?

* * *

 

To: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
From: Taylorhanson@hanson.net  
Subject: Re: Taylor Fucking Hanson!

I'm seriously considering just running away. I could live on the road, just enjoying all these cities and countries I've been whisked through over the past few months. I think I'll start with Amsterdam... and maybe end there too...

* * *

 

 

 

_May 17, 2005_

**Back in the states**  
_Posted by TaylorHanson_

We've been officially back in the states for about a month now, and it feels pretty good. Don't get me wrong – I love traveling, and I'm excited about the trip to Australia in a few days. But it feels good to have a little downtime. I won't lie to you guys. My body can't handle as much as it used to be able to, even though more and more of my strength seems to be returning every day. But I need breaks, and this has been a good, productive one. Your members kits are in the mail, and I know several of you have already gotten them. I hope a lot of you are able to come out and see us at Mayfest, because we have a little surprise planned for all the fan club members.

 

 

_June 7, 2005_

To: Taylorhanson@hanson.net  
From: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
Subject: (no subject)

Just thought I would check in, since I'm home for the summer now. Only one more year of college left for me... can you believe it?

* * *

 

 

 

_June 29, 2005_

To: Taylorhanson@hanson.net  
From: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
Subject: hey...

Just realized you guys were still on tour when I sent my last email, so I'm sure you were so busy that it just slipped right by you. Are you getting some rest now?

* * *

 

 

 

_July 11, 2005_

**Tulsa**  
_Posted by TaylorHanson_

Living in Tulsa is really great sometimes. It has such a small town feel, but there are some really great festivals and opportunities around town. From Mayfest, which we've played several times (most recently this year) to DFest, which Zac and I attended a few days ago. We decided to stay low key and just watch a few bands from the audience, and it was great. Some great local and national talent on the stage. Makes me yearn to be back on stage, but at the same time, I appreciate the few months break we're about to take. Give these old bones a rest for a while.

 

 

_July 12, 2005_

To: Taylorhanson@hanson.net  
From: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
Subject: DFest

Heard you were at Dfest too. Wish I could have seen you. I'll be around Tulsa for a little while longer if you wanna get together some time before I'm officially a college senior...

* * *

 

 

 

_September 9, 2005_

**Thanks**  
_Posted by TaylorHanson_

First of all, I want to say a huge thanks to everyone who came out to Cain's last night for the Katrina benefit. All your donations will be greatly appreciated, I'm sure, and we're so humbled to have such generous fans.

Second of all, I also want to thank you guys for your concern about me. I know there are rumors going around that I'm sick again, and that's all they are-–rumors. I have seen my doctors for some routine tests to make sure I'm ready for the fall tour, and they assure me that I am. I dunno about you guys, but I am more than ready to rock and roll!

 

 

_October 11, 2005_

“So,” Callie said, in between bites of her food court quesadilla. “You know, a certain someone is in Stillwater today.”

“Oh? Who?” I asked, even though I knew exactly who she was referring to.

“It's only noon. We could make it there and sneak in. I mean, we are college students... just not OSU students...”

I shook my head. “No. No way.”

“Don't you want to get some sort of closure from him? I mean, the way you guys left things... I would want answers.”

“No,” I replied. “Can we just drop it?”

With a shrug, Callie went back to her food. I could tell that she didn't believe me, though, and she was right not to. I did want closure. I wanted a lot that I knew I couldn't ever get from Taylor. Despite my claims that I wanted him out of my life, I couldn't stop trying to contact him, like some lovesick ex-girlfriend who refused to accept that the relationship had ended. I hated that he made me act that way, especially because he never answered.

He was obviously over me. What more closure could there possibly be?

 

 

_December 3, 2005_

**Home sweet home**  
_Posted by TaylorHanson_

That's right, folks. We're home for the holidays, and it feels really good to be able to rest. Some days, especially after back to back concerts, I feel far older than twenty two. I know that's all the chemo talking. That stuff takes a toll, and there are side effects I'll probably feel my whole life. But none of those will ever stop me from playing music, I can promise you guys that.

In fact, we're already working on our next album. We've written several songs over the last few months, and we're getting ready to go in the studio and lay down some demos of the most promising tracks. If all goes as planned (does it ever?), we'll be releasing it at some point in 2006.

 

 

> _I'm blind with eyes wide open_   
>  _My body's tired and broken_   
>  _I want a taste of something, that doesn't leave me dry_   
>  _This hope for answered questions_   
>  _As rare as true conviction_   
>  _I stare into the distance, there is no truth in sight_   
>  _Who can tell me why_
> 
> _Everybody's looking for a blue sky_  
>  _Searching for an answer on a satellite_  
>  _I know that there's got to be a blue sky out there to see_  
>  _A blue sky waiting for me_  
>  \-- Hanson, Blue Sky


	16. The World Does What It Does

 

_January 7, 2006_

 

> _Nothing's over 'til it's over_  
>  _And if it's over I don't want to hear it_  
>  _Look into my eyes I told her_  
>  _Holding on to what is gone won't heal it_  
>  \-- Hanson, One More

 

To: Taylorhanson@hanson.net  
From: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
Subject: You.

You ever get the random urge to email someone? Well, I do. I guess.

So here I am, sending you a email at why-the-fuck-am-i-still-awake-o'clock in the morning (okay, it's not that late but I've got important shit to do tomorrow).

I don't know why... we seem to have faded out of each others lives again and I've wanted to change that but I don't know how. Now here I am, realizing that I most likely won't have a job after graduation, and I have no clue what my life will be in a few months. It's terrifying.

Sometimes I'd like to stay in bed forever, but it's not so fun alone. But sometimes I think I'm better alone anyway. I screw up every good thing I ever have. I can't leave well enough alone or even realize when it's there.

There's really no point to this. I'm sorry. I'll stop talking about myself. What about you? What is the world of Taylor like now? Let's get one of those weird, tangential series of messages going again. Those were the bright spot in my summer two years ago. I miss that.

Adelaide

* * *

 

To: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
From: Taylorhanson@hanson.net  
Subject: Re: You.

I randomly send messages that aren't just a few lines long. But only occasionally.

You win the prize this time.

I wouldn't say that we've faded out of each other's lives, more so that other parts of life have become more vivid. To me, that's a wonderful thing, even if it seems like there's distance between us. What's been proven between us is that we can go right back to being like we were before, just out of habit, no matter what.

Trust me. I flirt with you. You be cynical. I be more cynical. I flirt some more. You go... well... if you put it thaaat way... lol.

To be honest though, I do believe that I may be dying this time and I can't do anything about it. A clinical trial is pretty much my only option now that I relapsed again. It's in my hip and I'd really like not to have to limp around all day. I'm not black, nor am I Greg House... pimp walks are out.  
Feel free to message me. No idea when I'll respond, but trust me, it's just because I'm busy... not ever because I don't care.

* * *

 

 

_March 14, 2006_

To: Taylorhanson@hanson.net  
From: adelaide.quinn@cameron.edu  
Subject: Happy birthday

Just wanted to send you another message and see how you were doing. Also, obviously, to say happy birthday. I hope you're not having to spend it in the hospital.

Also, I'll be home for Easter break soon, and I was hoping we could get together. I think that would be good for us, if you're up to it.

* * *

 

 

_May 16, 2006_

I don't know why I expected Taylor to change overnight. Why should another bout with cancer suddenly change him back into the boy he was before it all? If he truly thought he was dying... why would I even _want_ him to change his mind? It just seemed too late for anything.

Still, I wanted to see him again. If this was my last chance, then I wanted closure. I wanted him to know how I felt before he was gone. He was having none of that, though. We did talk often, but he found excuses not to see me. I could only assume he didn't want me to see him in the hospital, and I found that silly. Taylor should have known that I wouldn't care what he looked like.

Or maybe he just really didn't want to see me. I didn't know.

I could feel myself on the verge of a deep depression once again, and I hated it. It didn't help that I hadn't been able to find a job after college. Even with my teaching qualifications, nothing seemed to come of any of the applications I'd sent out. For the time being, I was forced to just move in with my dad and mooch off him until I figured out where to go with my life. At least he had seemingly cleaned up his act after a bad accident that he hadn't even felt the need to call and tell me about until weeks later. Miraculously, he was fine, but wrecking his truck while he was actually sober, for once, had been some strange turning point for him.

Living at home wasn't that bad, but it was an awful reminder of the way I felt so behind everyone else my age. I was single, had no job prospects, no money of my own... I had nothing but free time to kill and pretend I wasn't supposed to be a responsible adult. What that amounted to was me spending several nights a week at various clubs and hotspots downtown.

That was how I found myself the Blue Dome the night of some sort of open mic thing. It was packed, but I managed to find a small table all to myself. I didn't feel much like eating; in fact, I felt much more like drinking, but I knew I had to drive myself home. I set myself a limit of just two fruity mixed drinks, figuring that would be safe enough.

Most of the performers were less than stellar, which was a shame. Tulsa had a good music scene—better than a lot of people would probably expect—but evidently none of those particular musicians were at the Blue Dome that night.

It wasn't long before a familiar face appeared on the stage. I hadn't seen Eric for years, but even with the beard he'd grown, I recognized him. He had never been the frontman before, preferring to stay in the background with his guitar, but now he was alone with an acoustic guitar and a stool. After a brief and awkward introduction, he began to play and sing.

 _In the chilly hours and minutes_  
Of uncertainty, I want to be  
In the warm hold of your loving mind 

_To feel you all around me_  
And to take your hand along the sand  
Ah, but I may as well try and catch the wind 

He had a good voice. No, he had a _great_ voice. As he sang, a strange feeling washed over me. I hadn't been sure I would ever met another boy who made me feel the way Taylor did, but Eric certainly stirred up something inside me. It was no secret that I'd thought he was cute back in the day, but for some reason, I had never done anything about that slight attraction.

 _When sundown pales the sky_  
I want to hide a while behind your smile  
And everywhere I'd look your eyes I'd find

 _For me to love you now_  
Would be the sweetest thing 'twould make me sing  
Ah, but I may as well try and catch the wind 

I hated myself for it, but the song brought tears to my eyes. Like everything else in the world, it reminded me of Taylor. Those thoughts mingled with my newly re-awakened crush on Eric, and gave me something of an epiphany.

Taylor would never be mine. He never had been, fully, and he never would be. Taylor would never belong to anyone but himself.

I wasn't okay with that, but I thought that perhaps in time I could learn to be.

 _When rain has hung the leaves with tears_  
I want you near to kill my fears  
To help me to leave all my blues behind

 _For standin' in your heart_  
Is where I want to be and long to be  
Ah, but I may as well try and catch the wind

_Ah, but I may as well try and catch the wind_

Eric sang a few more songs, but none of them touched me the way that one had. I was still so much in shock over it that I hardly even noticed when he found his way to my table and sat down without an invitation at all.

“Adelaide? Is that you you?”

“Who else would it be?”

Eric smiled. “You look so different.”

“I guess I am different,” I replied.

I really wasn't the same person Eric remembered at all, but I didn't need to get into that with him. He didn't need to know all the ways I'd changed. When the conversation began to flow easily between us, I wondered if I really _had_ changed at all. Eric and I hadn't been that close in high school, but we talked now like old friends... or old lovers. As we talked, numerous people wandered over and asked him who his new girlfriend was, leaving us to laugh, blush and correct their misconception.

But would it be that bad? Every time someone used that word, butterflies fluttered up in my stomach. It was hard to deny that I was attracted to Eric, even though I wasn't really sure that I wanted to be.

When it became too loud inside for us to talk without shouting, Eric asked me to follow him outside for a cigarette, and I obliged. I didn't remember him being a smoker, but he didn't remember me being short haired and pierced. Still, despite those changes on the outside, we seemed exactly the same on the inside... or different in ways that still worked together.

Eric was one of those people who talked while he smoked, barely even seeming to pause to take a breath. Our conversation flowed just as it had before, covering a variety of topics as he sucked down cigarette after cigarette. Finally, I noticed that it was getting late, and while I didn't have any sort of curfew, I didn't really enjoy driving home so late at night.

“Why don't you give me your phone number before you go?” He asked.

“Yeah, sure,” I replied, holding out my hand. “Let me just put it in your phone.”

I did so, then handed his phone back. The smile on his face as he tucked it into his pocket made those butterflies take flight in my stomach again. We stood there for a moment, and I wondered if Eric was going to kiss me. It hadn't been a date, though. But what _had_ this night been?

After a few more awkward seconds, he laughed sheepishly and asked, “Can I have a hug?”

“Of course,” I replied.

He tossed his cigarette down and pulled me into his arms. It felt good there. It felt _right_. Finally, I was thinking only about the guy I was with and not Taylor.

 

_May 19, 2006_

Over the next few days, Eric and I texted constantly. The conversations ranged from casual to highly flirtatious, and eventually we both admitted that we had thought of that first, unplanned night together as a date. He had never thought I returned his feelings for me back in high school, so he'd never acted on them. I had to admit that, while I wasn't sure what my feelings were, I had always felt _something_ for him, and I was glad to have the chance to explore that.

There seemed to be no reason for us to delay or beat around the bush, so we quickly made plans to go out again. The Blue Dome was his favorite haunt, so I agreed to meet him there. It didn't seem like the most romantic date in the world, but I really didn't care. I just wanted to see him.

It wasn't an open mic night, so we were able to sit and talk more quietly. The conversation flowed for hours once again, and I couldn't find it in myself to object when Eric held my hand underneath the table. Neither of us had come right out and said that we were together now, but it seemed obvious to me that we were.

After several hours, we went outside again so that he could smoke. Neither of us had realized, from inside the building, just how much of a storm had been brewing all around us. Oklahoma's summers were notorious for their thunderstorms. If it wasn't the tornadoes, it was the rain. After living there my whole life, they didn't even scare me anymore; in fact, there was something kind of thrilling about standing in a safe spot and watching huge sheets of rain falling.

“You think maybe we should call it a night?” He asked, nodding toward the sky.

“It's still kind of early...” I replied, scooting a little closer to his side. I wasn't sure what I wanted from him yet, but I knew that I wasn't ready to go home.

“Do you want to stay here or should we...” Eric trailed off.

At some point, his arm had found its way around my waist. I leaned up just a little bit, hoping I was reading his signals correctly. I was. Our lips met gently at first and I couldn't have said for certain which of us it was who closed that little distance between them. The kiss was brief and chaste, both of us pulling back quickly and give the other a small smile. Seconds later, we were kissing again, this time with much more passion. I didn't care that we were right in front of the restaurant and that anyone could have seen. I didn't care about anything but how good Eric's lips felt against mine.

From inside my purse, my phone began to ring. I didn't want the kiss to end, but I recognized my father's ringtone and knew I had to answer his call.

After a few moments of fumbling to find the phone, I finally answered it. “Hello?”

“Where are you?”

“Blue Dome,” I replied. “I left a note.”

“I don't suppose you've noticed the rain.”

“Yeah, we're standing outside right now...”

“It's getting pretty bad,” Dad said. “Our street is flooded. Unless you want to park your car at your aunt's a few streets over and let me bring the ATV out to get you... I don't think you're coming home tonight. You can just stay with Aunt Jean or something.”

“If it's that bad, I might just stay downtown... I'll give Chelsea a call and see if she's home,” I replied.

“Well, give me a call if you decide to try to come home and we'll figure out how to get you here.”

“Okay.”

True to form, Dad hung up then without even saying goodbye. He'd said what he needed to say, so the conversation was over.

“Do you need to go home?” Eric asked once I'd tucked my phone back into my purse.

I shook my head. “I can't. The street is flooded. I need to go to my aunt's house... or maybe call Chelsea, I don't know...”

“You could come to my apartment. It's within walking distance, so I didn't even bother to drive. I mean, if you want to.”

I had a choice then, and I could see it clearly. If I went home with Eric, I would sleep with him. Of that I was certain. I didn't _not_ want to sleep with him. If we were dating, it was going to happen eventually. Why wait?

“Okay,” I said. “I'm not going to walk in this rain, though. You can give me directions.”

It was, like Eric had said, only a short drive to his apartment. The parking lot wasn't particularly close to the entrance, so we had to run for it, splashing through puddles and laughing madly as we did so. I felt like a kid again. We were laughing wildly as we walked into the apartment, soaking wet and dripping all over the carpet. His roommates, who I didn't recognize, looked at us like we were crazy, and Eric's only explanation for our behavior was that my street was flooded.

Once we were in his bedroom, he began rummaging through drawers for some pajamas I could wear. I ended up in a t-shirt from our high school and a pair of sweatpants that didn't really want to stay over my hips. Eric was so skinny that I wondered how that could be, but I knew I had lost weight recently. I just hadn't realized how much weight until right then.

We climbed into bed together and pulled his quilt up high around us, even though it was so humid from the rain that even inside the apartment it was stifling. I guess we needed the cover, though, because it wasn't long before we were kissing, touching and shedding the pajamas we'd just put on.

I felt exposed, more exposed than I'd ever felt before during sex, except perhaps that first time with Taylor. Mostly for disinterest and lack of trying, I hadn't had sex since that last night with Taylor, well over a year before. It was like riding a bicycle, though; I remembered how, even if it felt strange, wrong and a little scary at first.

When it was over, Eric went out to smoke a cigarette on the small landing by their apartment door, and I remained in bed with the covers pulled up to my shoulders. Staring at the mess of books and guitars that made up his bedroom, I decided that if there was any boy in the world besides Taylor Hanson who I could fall in love with, it was Eric Polley.

 

> _Gone astray we find ourselves_   
>  _Right on the edge of falling apart_   
>  _Don't you see it's in our ways_   
>  _When something's done wrong, we just go along_   
>  _It lights a fire inside of me_   
>  _Just show me when this living stops_
> 
> _I am father and son_  
>  _I am all that I fear_  
>  _I can choose to give up_  
>  _We could tear the world apart_  
>  _Tear the world apart_  
>  _We could tear the world apart_  
>  \-- Hanson, I Am


	17. Drown In Your Love

 

_June 11, 2006_

 

 

> _Something always brings me back to you._   
>  _It never takes too long._   
>  _No matter what I say or do I'll still feel you here 'til the moment I'm gone._
> 
> _You hold me without touch._  
>  _You keep me without chains._  
>  _I never wanted anything so much than to drown in your love and not feel your rain._  
>  \-- Sara Bareilles, Gravity

 

 **eightyeight88:** i hate hospitals, lady  
**blue x skye:** you're still in the hospital?  
**eightyeight88:** they call it a treatment center, but we all know it's really a hospital  
**blue x skye:** do they have any idea how much longer you'll be there?  
**eightyeight88:** oh i'm just being observed now. that's why it's so frustrating to still be caged up.  
**blue x skye:** so the treatment is over?  
**eightyeight88:** basically. whether it worked or not... we'll just have to wait and see  
**blue x skye:** whenever you're out, i would still like to see you, you know  
**eightyeight88:** i know  
**blue x skye:** in the interest of full disclosure, i do have a boyfriend now  
**eightyeight88:** when don't you?  
**blue x skye:** plenty of times, just only a few you've been around for  
**eightyeight88:** fair enough, sweetheart. anyone i know?  
**blue x skye:** maybe. eric polley?  
**eightyeight88:** musician?  
**blue x skye:** yeah, he's been in a couple different bands. he thinks this new one is going somewhere.  
**eightyeight88:** haven't you learned your lesson about dating musicians?  
**blue x skye:** you would think so, but apparently not ;)  
**eightyeight88:** i'm serious though. you don't want to date a touring musician, if that's where his band is headed. and if he's who i'm thinking of, it won't be long.  
**blue x skye:** i'm not sure i trust your advice when it comes to my love life. no offense.  
**eightyeight88:** maybe you shouldn't, but it's something to think about. can you trust him? can you go months without seeing him or go along and see girls throw themselves at him? you have to be strong. but you are, lady.  
**blue x skye:** sometimes i'm not so sure that i am  
**eightyeight88:** you are. i don't know many people stronger than you, if any.  
**blue x skye:** it doesn't seem to have done much good  
**eightyeight88:** if it hasn't yet, it will. we're still young, lady. still plenty of time for us to take over the world.  
**blue x skye:** maybe there is, maybe there isn't

 

 

_June 21, 2006_

Taylor's comments about Eric made me so mad that I could barely see straight. Hot, angry tears fell down my cheeks even as I tried to keep my comments as nice as I could. Who was he to judge who I was with? I was beginning to wonder if Taylor would only ever want me when he couldn't have me. That seemed to be the way things went. We had called ourselves nothing more than bad timing, but what if he engineered things so that would be the case? What if he only came around when he knew he could flirt but never really get close?

It made me sick to even consider that possibility.

It also made me really want to stay with Eric, in spite of the reasons I was starting to see that it just wouldn't work out. It wasn't as though he hadn't been upfront about how busy he was with the band, and I thought I was fine with that. For all I knew, I would find a job and leave Tulsa in the near future. I didn't have anything but him to tie me there, and that was a very new, very tenuous bond.

Barely a month into our relationship, we were already fighting all the time. When he wasn't busy, he was flaking out on our plans. I didn't think he was cheating, because I was reasonably certain we had enough mutual friends that I would have heard about that. But I still didn't like being so close yet so far away from him.

We had made plans that night, but I knew he was supposed to be practicing with the band before our date. When the time he'd promised to pick me up came and went, I got antsy and began calling his cell phone. It rang and rang, but with no answer. I called back again and again, even though I hated myself for it. It wouldn't make him answer; it would only make me look like a crazy, possessive person.

Finally, the phone clicked over, but all I could hear were muffled voices. He must have somehow answered the phone accidentally, not even realizing he'd done it. No matter how many times I said “hello,” there was no reply. I strained to listen to the voices, and I could just barely make out Eric's. There might have been a girl's voice, but I couldn't be sure.

It didn't matter, though. Whether he was cheating or not, he had neglected me entirely.

I hated to prove Taylor right, but I knew what I had to do. I hung up, then dialed his number again, hoping that once again it would go to voicemail. It did.

“Eric, umm... hey. I don't know if you're just busy or what, but I've been calling. I hate to do this over the phone, but I don't know what choice you've given me when it seems like I can't see you in person at all. I just... I don't want to give you an ultimatum, because those suck, but what else can I do? If you want this to work, I really need to see more effort on your part, because right now, I don't see it. At all. So the ball is in your court. If you want it to work, make it work. If not, then... I guess it's over.”

 

 

_June 25, 2006_

**blue x skye:** i broke up with eric  
**eightyeight88:** not because of what i said, i hope?  
**blue x skye:** no. it got me thinking, yes. but the relationship wasn't exactly working out... and i know it had only been a month, but...  
**eightyeight88:** you can't hang on forever and wait for him to be as good to you as you deserve. if he isn't from the start, he never will be.  
**blue x skye:** that was basically the conclusion i came to. how did you know?  
**eightyeight88:** i know you, lady. you know i do.  
**blue x skye:** but i didn't tell you what was going wrong with eric.  
**eightyeight88:** so tell me now  
**blue x skye:** he was just so flaky. and i knew he wasn't ready for a big commitment, so maybe it wasn't fair for me to expect that much from him  
**eightyeight88:** fair enough  
**blue x skye:** but i just feel like... if you want to be with me, act like it, you know? you don't have to promise me forever, but if you want to date me at all, fucking act like it. and he didn't.  
**eightyeight88:** you deserve better than that  
**blue x skye:** well i don't know if i'll ever find it, but i know it wasn't him  
**eightyeight88:** don't take this the wrong way lady, but you need to know this. whatever there is or was between us, i love you.  
**blue x skye:** please don't tell me that  
**eightyeight88:** i know you probably don't want to hear it right now or at all, but it's true. whether it's romantic love or platonic love or whatever, it's true now, it's been true, and it will always be true.  
**blue x skye:** i just don't know what you think you're accomplishing by telling me that when i've just gotten out of a relationship  
**eightyeight88:** i just thought you needed to know. i know i haven't said it before.  
**blue x skye:** yes you have  
**blue x skye:** but then you said you weren't IN love with me  
**eightyeight88:** oh god. did i really say that?  
**blue x skye:** you don't remember?  
**eightyeight88:** lady you know i was on pain pills and sleeping pills then. if that was in bed at night after i took my ambien... then i neither remember it, nor did i have much control over it at the time  
**blue x skye:** oh  
**blue x skye:** well i'm not saying it back  
**eightyeight88:** you don't have to  
**blue x skye:** not because i don't feel it too. but if i say that to you, for the first time, i don't want it to just be online  
**eightyeight88:** that's fair. maybe i should have waited too.  
**blue x skye:** waited until when? i mean, when am i even going to see you again?  
**eightyeight88:** i don't know. when i'm out of the hospital?  
**blue x skye:** when will that be?  
**eightyeight88:** maybe two, three weeks  
**blue x skye:** i know in the grand scheme of things, that isn't very long. but i don't think i can wait even a minute more than absolutely necessary.  
**eightyeight88:** if you don't mind seeing me in a hospital bed, then come on. whenever you're ready... i'll be here.

 

 

_June 28, 2006_

If I was completely honest with myself, I was terrified to see Taylor again. It wasn't because of how he might look. I wasn't scared of hospitals or sick people. I was scared of _Taylor_. Even though I had tried to keep up a friendship with him, because I didn't want to lose him entirely, I knew how much he could hurt me. He had the power to completely break me, and I was fairly certain he knew that. Whether he would or not remained to be seen.

Knowing how sick he was, though, I didn't want to take the chance of not seeing him again. I didn't want that last night we spent together to be my last real memory of him. The thought that Taylor might actually die, at any moment, scared me more than anything else. That fear forced me to get over all my other fears and just go see him.

The treatment center where Taylor was staying for time being really was more than just a hospital. There were seemingly dozens of different departments and it took me a long time to locate the actual patient rooms. That particular wing looked more like a hotel than any hospital I had ever seen. The only difference was that I had to check in at a nurse's desk where I received a visitor's badge that clipped onto my shirt.

It took only a little more searching to find Taylor's room. Inside, it looked even more like a hotel, with soft pastel décor, a comfy chair and a small table by the window. In the large bed, there was Taylor, looking just as pale and sickly as I remembered him looking two years ago.

“You cut your hair,” he said.

I nodded. “Yeah, I did.”

“I lost mine. Again.” He smirked a little and tapped himself on the skull when he said it, as though he thought it might have passed me by. It hadn't, but it didn't matter. He was still Taylor to me, no matter what he looked like; it was cliché, but true.

I stood awkwardly in the doorway. Even if it did look like a hotel, it was still a hospital room, and I felt out of place.

“Come on,” Taylor said, motioning toward the chair next to his bed. “Zac says this chair is pretty comfy. And Dad's passed out in it a dozen or so times, so it's got his seal of approval, too.”

With somewhat of a forced laugh, I stepped into the room and sat down in the overstuffed chair. It was pretty comfortable, but it didn't do anything to clear the tension in the air around us.

After a moment of flipping through the television channels, Taylor finally turned the volume down and glanced at me. “You graduated, didn't you?”

“Yeah,” I replied. “Somehow. By the skin of my teeth, I think.”

“So what are you still doing in Tulsa?”

I sighed. “I don't know. It's not like a college degree is a ticket out. I wish it was. It hasn't even been a ticket to a job for me yet.”

“So what's the plan? Don't you always have a plan?”

“I used to,” I replied. “But then better options started coming along. Less reliable options, but better ones. And I stopped planning. Maybe I shouldn't have, because now I don't... I don't have anything, really.”

“That's not true,” Taylor said.

“Well, it feels that way.”

An awkward silence descended upon us again. I hated myself for nearly arguing with him, for letting my words be so biting. After what felt like minutes but was probably only seconds, Taylor said, “I'm sorry things didn't work out with that guy.”

“Are you?”

“Do you want me to be happy about it?”

“I want you to be honest,” I replied.

“I'm trying to be,” he said. “I really am. And I honestly don't want to see you hurt by anyone.”

“Not even yourself?”

Taylor looked away. “I can't go back in time and undo the hurt I caused you. But if I could, believe me, it would be on the list of things I would do differently.”

“Then why didn't you do it differently the first time?” I asked, not even trying to fight the tears threatening to fall. I knew Taylor could hear them in my voice, because he winced at my words.

I had to strain to hear his whispered reply. “I was trying to spare you. You never did understand that.”

“You just had to hurt me to do it?” I asked.

“Think about it, Lady. I'm going to _die_. Sooner rather than later. I'm going be gone, poof, out of your life forever. I can't stand that thought. I know it seems silly to push you away, but I was trying to spare you. Give you a chance to move on, find someone else. If you could move on, love somebody else... I don't know, maybe you wouldn't have to deal with... with everything that being with me means.”

I tried to process his words, and even though it was a theory I'd considered before to explain his behavior, hearing it spelled out, it really didn't make a lot of sense. Shaking my head, I asked, “So what about the other girls? It was okay to hurt them?”

“It's going to sound horrible of me, but... I never loved them. And they never loved me. They were safe. I could keep them at a distance and not have to worry that they would be so hurt to lose me. But you... you're strong, Lady, but you've got a breaking point.”

“And it's you? Taylor Hanson is just so wonderful that I'll never be able to get over him?” I practically spat the words at him.

“Lady,” Taylor said, his eyes pleading with me. “I didn't say that. That's not what I meant. There are plenty of women out there who don't love me. You're not one of them. And there are plenty of women out there who I don't love. And you're not one of them, either.”

“You keep saying that,” I replied.

“What? That you love me? Tell me you don't, Adelaide. Tell me.”

“You know I love you. But you could at least wait until I've said it before you put the words in my mouth.”

Taylor lips twitched like they were going to turn up into a smirk, but they didn't. “There. You've said it. That's why you came here, wasn't it?”

I nodded. “I didn't... I didn't want you to die without having heard it. It didn't even matter that I didn't think it would change your mind. You just needed to know.”

“Change my mind about what?” Taylor asked.

“Being with me.”

“I never didn't want to be with you,” he replied. “I just didn't think it was... in your best interests.”

“How about you let me decide that? Sometimes I do know what's best for myself.”

“And that's why I agreed to let you come here,” he said softly.

I stared at him in disbelief. The conversation had gone in so many different directions, few of them good, and my heart was still racing from the things he'd said.

“We'll have to agree to disagree about whether it's in your best interests, but... do you honestly want to be with me, Lady? You know I could die tomorrow. Or next month. Or next year. Can you live with that?”

“I want to be with you,” I replied, not caring that my tears were no doubt smearing mascara down my cheeks. I didn't want to glance away from Taylor even long enough to wipe them away. “I want to be with you, for however long I can. I never cared about how long. Never. All I've wanted, since the moment I realized I loved you, was to know you felt the same. That was all I needed. But knowing it... well, it didn't immediately fix anything. It didn't change anything between us. So, yes, I want, maybe even _need_ , to be with you.”

Taylor nodded, then reached across the bed to grasp my hand. “I'm so sorry. I don't know how long I have to make up for... for everything. But I'm going to try, okay? I can't be everything you deserve, I know, but—”

“I don't give a fuck about _deserve_. I only care about want. Need. Love.”

“Yeah,” he replied, giving me a weak smile. “For once, I think... I think that's all I care about, too.”

“So does that mean...?” I trailed off, still fearing this couldn't possibly be real.

“Yes. Do you want me to actually ask the question, Lady? Will you be my girlfriend?”

I rolled my eyes. “You know I will.”

“Yeah. I know.”

 

 

> _"I didn't want to see you."_  
>  _"They told me."_  
>  _"I was afraid that I'd still love you.”_  
>  ― Orson Scott Card, Ender's Game


	18. Whatever Your Crossroads

 

_August 22, 2006_

 

 

> _Live the way you must_  
>  _But it’s twenty-one or bust_  
>  _You only get one chance at bat_  
>  _Even great men crash_  
>  _But they take the unworn path_  
>  _Never speaking of the loss_  
>  \-- Hanson, Live Forever

 

Being with Eric had given me an excuse to stay in Tulsa, but being with Taylor had given me a purpose—not just a purpose for staying in Tulsa, but a purpose in general. He made me feel like I could do and be anything, but all I really wanted to do was stay by his side and be his. I was certain I was setting back the feminist movement by several decades, but I didn't care. Taylor needed me. Even after he left the hospital, he had nurses that visited once a week, but they weren't paid to be there all the time. I had nothing else to do but be with him all the time, and he didn't mind my doting presence. If he did, he kept that to himself.

Less than two months after we'd gotten together, I found myself leaving not just Tulsa, but the country. The trip had been planned for months before I entered Taylor's life again, but when he discovered that I'd gotten a passport for a summer as an exchange student in Sweden that never materialized, he immediately invited me along.

Even if I had been able to imagine being with Taylor again, I had certainly never imagined being with him in Africa, staring out of a hotel window into a seemingly endless unfamiliar landscape.

“It's amazing, isn't it?” Taylor said softly, his voice still surprising me. I hadn't heard the balcony door opening.

“Yeah,” I replied. “It's just hard to believe this is technically work for you guys. It's vacation for me, but for you—barely out of the hospital—it's work. _This_ is your job.”

Taylor chuckled and put his arm around me. “You know there's more to it than just seeing beautiful places, though. Sometimes you get lucky and you get to visit someplace great and do something, too. Something great... or just something that matters.”

I nodded. While it was a vacation for me, it was a business trip for him in several different ways. Some of Taylor's doctors were involved with a charity that had developed new medical technology for third world countries. I didn't really understand it all, but Taylor had turned into a nerd about all that medical stuff, and had managed to get himself and his brothers invited along on the trip. Their travels had somehow never taken them to Africa, and I'm not sure any of us really knew what to expect from it. The beauty was indescribable, but so was the poverty. All of it, everything we'd seen in a few short days, seemed to be weighing heavily on Taylor.

“I've spent too much time feeling sorry for myself, Lady,” he said randomly, but I was sure in Taylor's mind, there was a perfectly logical explanation for the sudden outburst. “I mean, did you see those kids today? At that school?”

I nodded.

“They don't have a tenth of the luck or a hundredth of the material wealth I've got... but they're happy. They're alive, so they've got something to sing about. Sometimes... sometimes I forgot what I still had to sing about. Isn't that awful?”

I didn't how how to reply to that at all, so I just put my arms around Taylor and held onto him. When he started rambling, it was usually easier to just listen.

“I mean, I had you. I'll always have you to sing about, whether you realize it or not. I think there's a piece of you in every song I've written since we met, but...” He trailed off and shook his head. “But the reason _why_ I sing. Sometimes I was just so angry at the world, at my own body, that I just didn't want to be happy. I wanted to just wallow in all that anger. What did that get me? Nothing but more anger. I'm done with that, Lady.”

“I'm glad,” I said softly, and I wasn't sure he'd even heard me.

A slow smile began to creep across Taylor's face. He stared out at the plains all around us. “Lady... I don't know how long I've got left, but I'm going to do something with that time.”

I wasn't sure yet that Taylor had any clue _what_ he was going to do, but I believed him.

 

 

_September 30, 2006_

Even though I had been to two of my friends' weddings, I still didn't like the realization that I was old enough to attend the wedding of one of my peers. When did I get that old? Sometimes I still felt like a teenager, but other times, I felt a million years old. Sitting at Isaac's wedding, I wasn't sure which side of myself was winning.

During the ceremony, I sat with Zac's girlfriend Hannah. I didn't know her well at all; I was aware that she was best friends with Taylor's ex of the same name, but I tried not to hold that against her. She was one of those freakishly quiet people. Once the music began, I gave up trying to even talk to her.

The wedding was beautiful, but mercifully short. I could see Taylor starting to wobble and sway as he stood dutifully by the groom. He shot me a look as he walked back down the aisle, and I carefully slipped out to his car to retrieve the cane that he refused to be seen with during the ceremony. I knew he needed it—he needed it more and more every day—but he scoffed at the idea of walking down the aisle at his brother's wedding with a cane. Taylor was nothing if not stubborn.

At the reception, we were allowed to sit wherever we wanted. Taylor and I found a table all by ourselves and, except for when he gave his speech, Taylor remained at the table with his right leg propped up in one of the extra chairs. I had a few of his pain pills in my tiny little purse, too, but I wasn't going to hand over one until he asked for it.

“So how many times have people asked if you're going to be next?” Taylor asked, absent-mindedly rubbing his leg.

“Most of them are just trying to figure out who I'm related to and how I got invited, I think.”

Taylor's other hand found its way into my hair. “You've got the curly blonde hair, so half of them assume you're a Hanson. The other half have been asking me when I'm going to _make_ you a Hanson.”

“Did you tell them you can't make me do anything?” I asked.

He chuckled. “That's exactly what I said. How did you know?”

“Lucky guess,” I replied.

“You know we're not... I mean I'm not...” Taylor trailed off with a sigh. “You know I love you, Lady. That's enough, right?”

I nodded. It wasn't really, but I understood his reasons. From a realistic standpoint, neither of us knew if Taylor would even survive an engagement. Right now, all of his focus was on the new Hanson album, his new charity ideas and the treatments he still had to take once a month. I didn't want to put anything else on his pile of worries and responsibilities.

“Good,” he replied, leaning in and kissing the top of my head. “We've always been different, haven't we? Normal labels need not apply when it comes to you and me.”

I couldn't help smiling. When Taylor put it that way, not ever being his wife didn't sound so bad.

 

 

_November 28, 2006_

**Happy Thanksgiving**  
_Posted by TaylorHanson_

First of all, I want to wish a very happy Thanksgiving to all of you. I know I'm a few days late, but that's okay. The sentiment is the same. I hope you all have tons to be thankful for. Even if you feel like you don't have a lot of things, you still have something in your life to be thankful for, I promise. You all do. Even those of you who think you have the least.

And that brings me to the second purpose for this blog. We've just released the first single from our upcoming album. The song is called Great Divide and all proceeds from it will benefit the HIV unit at in Soweto, South Africa. As many of you know, we had the opportunity to take a trip to South Africa earlier this year and see up close some of the issues that country and others in Africa are dealing with. We wanted to do something to help, and this single is just the first step. Sometimes I forget how blessed I really am, and it makes me want to do so much more with what I've been given.

 

 

_December 25, 2006_

By Christmas, I was unofficially living in the pool house with Taylor. He didn't need a nurse all the time, and I wasn't a nurse anyway, but it didn't feel like I had anywhere else to go. My dad's new girlfriend was lightyears better than the last, but she brought along with her a large family that I couldn't find it in myself to get to know and treat as my own. Maybe that was bad of me, but I just had no attachment to them. They weren't anyone to me.

But Taylor... Taylor was my family now. I didn't feel as comfortable anywhere else as I did by his side. Even when he was at their studio or their office and I was left alone on their huge property, I still felt at home. Spending Christmas with his family seemed obvious; I didn't even think twice when Diana asked me if I'd like to join them for the holiday.

It was a huge affair with tons of family coming and going throughout the day. I didn't know many of the extended family, so I spent the day tucked close to Taylor's side or talking to Ike's wife, Nikki, who was just as new to the Hanson family circus as I was. I didn't know if it was the eggnog—Walker's special and very potent recipe—or just the whole event, but I felt overwhelmed by it all. I'd bought small gifts for all of Taylor's siblings, and hadn't been at all prepared for the books, journals and expensive clothing and jewelry that were heaped onto me by all of them.

By the time Taylor and I finally made it back to the pool house, I was exhausted. I knew Taylor felt just as bad, if not worse. He'd kept his cane in hand all night, leaning heavily on it even as he sucked down the eggnog that was sure to dull his pain some. He let it clatter to the floor as he fell into bed fully clothed, motioning for me to join him. I shed my coat and scarf first, then crawled into bed next to him.

“Merry Christmas, Lady,” he said.

“Merry Christmas, Tay.”

“I really didn't know they were going to make such a big deal out of you.”

I shrugged. “It's no big deal. I guess I just didn't think about... whether they'd met the other girls you dated or not.”

Taylor chewed his lip for a moment. “No, they... they didn't meet many of them. Hannah, of course. She was around for... a long time. Not as long as you, of course. But even you didn't spend much time around my family back then. Not for the same reasons, though. Those other girls, I honestly knew weren't going to last so there was no point bringing them around. You... you were special. Mine. My secret. I didn't want to share you with anyone else.”

“But you did,” I said.

“I know,” he replied. “And _you_ know that wasn't what I meant.”

“I know, I know. I'm glad you're sharing me with them now.”

Taylor only gave a little nod in reply to that. I could tell he was thinking, but I didn't know what about. He pulled his hand up his chest, twisting the Hanson ring he wore on it around and around nervously. I watched him for a moment, growing confused when he pulled the ring off.

“Here,” he said, holding it out to me. “I know, it was a gift to me, and it's not... it's not the kind of ring you probably want me to give you. But like we said before, we're different. We're weird. And you know you're in all of my music. You're this constant presence in all of it, this constant source of inspiration that has kept me going through the years, so... I think this belongs as much to you as it does to me. You'll, umm, probably need to get it resized.”

I nodded, my heading feeling like it was spinning as I slipped the ring on. I had a feeling it was more Taylor's words than the eggnog that made me feel so lightheaded.

Taylor held the hand I'd slipped the ring on and stared into my eyes. “I know I can't... I mean, I don't know what will happen when I'm gone. If I'm gone. Who knows, I could live ten, twenty, thirty more years. We could get married someday and have a dozen babies. I don't know. But if I don't, and we don't... I know that whatever you do is up to you and you alone. I just want you to have this ring and remember that we're a part of each other, forever. Okay?”

“I love you, Tay,” I said, not knowing what else to say.

“I love you too,” he replied. “But you might love someone else someday. And that's fine.”

I couldn't really picture that happening, but I nodded anyway.

“I just want you to be happy,” Taylor said. “That's all.”

“I am. I'm so, so happy, Tay. You don't even know.”

He just smiled. “Oh, I think I know.”

 

 

_February 23, 2007_

**The Walk**  
_Posted by TaylorHanson_

Well, I hope all of you fans in Japan are enjoying the new album!

I know it's frustrating for the rest of you, and I really want to apologize. We're working hard to get the release date nailed down so that everyone can hear The Walk. I also want to apologize for the fact that we won't be doing any major promotions for this album. My health is still far from 100% and it just isn't feasible for us to attempt to tour like we usually would. We will, at least, be playing one big show for the album release in New York in a few days. What we'll do after that is yet to be determined, but I hope you'll all still be ready to come along on the ride with us.

 

 

_March 6, 2007_

It was a given that I would go to New York with the band for what could very well be their last concert ever. I don't recall anyone even asking if I would join them; it was just assumed.

As The Walk came closer and closer to being a real thing, I became more invested in watching it take shape. When Taylor was well enough to go the studio or the office, I went with him and watched him work, assisting in whatever ways I could. It was fascinating to watch him at work, to become a part of the process he had assured me I already _was_ a part of.

The trip to the east coast was a whirlwind, and the entire time, I couldn't help fearing for Taylor's health. I watched the way he mainlined energy drinks, knocking back his pain pills, steroids and all other sorts pills with them. He used his cane behind the scenes, but stubbornly refused to take it out in public. I sometimes wondered if he just wanted an excuse to lean more heavily on my arm and show me off to the world.

There were radio interviews, album preview parties and all manner of public appearances that I was certain Taylor wasn't ready for at all. He never complained, though. The only way I could measure his discomfort was the number of pain pills he took and the length of downtime he spent huddled under his electric blanket, trying to both warm and numb his aching bones.

Finally, it was time for the concert. It was billed as an album release show, because I think we were all afraid to call it Hanson's farewell concert. We all knew that was what it truly was, though. The chemo wasn't working this time; each new test still showed more cancerous cells, but Taylor couldn't remain on the medicine indefinitely. It was too hard on his system. If the cancer didn't kill him, the treatment would. It was just a matter of time to see which would become too much for his body to handle first.

Most days, I didn't think about that. I just did what I had to do to get through the day. Sometimes, though, something would happen that would remind me that it was all going to end sooner rather than later. Standing backstage, listening to the crowd cheer for the boy they had to know was dying was one of those things. I found myself wishing I hadn't bothered to wear mascara for the show because I didn't think I could hide my tears.

A hand landed on the small of my back and made me jump a little. A second later, Taylor asked, “You ready for the show, Lady?”

“Yeah,” I replied, glancing up at him. “Are you?”

“As ready as I'm going to be,” he answered. “Honestly, this is probably going to be the toughest show I've ever played, but... I don't know, I just feel like I have to do it.”

I nodded. I knew exactly what he meant, and it was almost a relief to hear him come so close to admitting that he knew this could be the last time he ever stepped foot on stage. He might joke around and put on a smile, but he knew better than anyone how much his health was failing. The rest of us could _see_ it happening, but Taylor was the only one who could actually feel his body betraying him. Sometimes his cavalier attitude made it easy to forget that.

“Well, I think we're almost ready to hit the stage. We just finished a few last minute changes to the set list,” he said. “Where are you going to watch the show from? Back here?”

“No, I'm going to sit up in the balcony with Diana.”

As if on cue, she appeared in the doorway, motioning for me to come with her. I stepped up onto my tiptoes and gave Taylor a quick kiss, told him to break a leg, then followed his mom out the door. She looked more like she was marching to her own death than preparing to watch her sons in concert. I couldn't blame her; it seemed a somber occasion for everyone, even the fans. We were all already in mourning in our own different ways, mourning all the different things we were likely to lose soon—a favorite band, an idol, a son, a brother, a friend... a lover. Our pain was different but all very palpable in the atmosphere of the venue.

When the band finally took the stage, though, the screams and cheers were deafening. I had never witnessed a real Hanson concert, aside from that Riverfest performance years and years ago. Since then, I had seen Taylor sing dozens of times in smaller settings, but never like this. It was almost too much to take in, and it left me feeling higher than any drug ever could.

They played songs from the new album and all their past hits, too. Just like Taylor said time and time again, I _did_ hear bits and pieces of my life in the songs. It made me blush and wonder if anyone else knew where he drew inspiration from. At one point, Nikki reached over and squeezed my arm and I decided that she must know if no one else did; over the last few months, she and I had become close and she had heard it all, all the sordid details of my past with Taylor.

For most of the concert, I didn't cry. I laughed, danced and sang along, but I didn't cry. I tried to pay attention to every detail in case this truly was my last chance to see Taylor on stage. He wore a white shirt that seemed to glow in the stage lights and made him look like an angel. He stayed mostly in place, spending more time sitting down at his piano than I knew he usually did, or leaning heavily on his microphone stand. I was amazed at his energy, though. Taylor seemed to pull from some reserve of energy deep within, as though he'd been saving it all up for this concert for months.

It was a loud, raucous concert, all the things considered, with several guests, even a choir, joining them on stage. By the time they had played the last song, I didn't know how Taylor was still standing at all. I'd stayed in my seat for most of the show, and I still felt like all my energy was gone. I couldn't even imagine how tired Taylor must be.

The screams didn't stop even after the band left the stage, and they reached a fever pitch when the three of them walked back out minutes later. I knew they usually played an encore, but I hadn't been privy to the setlist, so I was just as much on the edge of my seat as the rest of the audience. I couldn't help but hold my breath as Taylor stepped up to the microphone.

“Hey, everybody,” he said, grinning as they all cheered in response. “I think we all just want to really, really thank you guys for showing up tonight. I know we've been kinda quiet the last few months while we recorded this album and while I've been undergoing treatment again. I, umm, I just want to let you know how grateful I am—how grateful we all are—that you're still here, still listening, still supporting this band no matter what we all go through. You've been with us through the good and the bad, and I know that for many of you, we've been with you through your good and bad, too. It's an amazing connection that we've all got, and no matter what may happen, we'll always have that. We'll always have the music.”

I couldn't be sure, but as Taylor stepped back from the mic, I thought he looked like he was going to cry. He leaned in close to Zac and Isaac and whispered something to them, and seconds later, Zac was counting them off. 

> _Standing cold and scared_   
>  _On top of Blue Hill_   
>  _There came one moment_   
>  _When I lost my will_   
>  _I prayed for mercy_   
>  _Please, Lord, take me away_   
>  _Give me sunshine_   
>  _When I only see gray_

I'd heard them sing this song before, the first time being on the playground of a school in South Africa. It gave me chills then, and it gave me chills now to hear just their three voices surrounded by absolute silence. Realizing that one of those three voices might soon be gone only made it more chilling to hear.

> _The past had a hold on me_   
>  _It can't be denied_   
>  _And the changes didn't come easily_   
>  _Don't you know_
> 
> _I've been lonely_   
>  _I've been cheated_   
>  _Been misunderstood_   
>  _I've been washed up_   
>  _Put down_   
>  _And told I'm no good_   
>  _But with you I belong_   
>  _'Cause you help me be strong_   
>  _There's a change in my life_   
>  _Since you came along_

When the song ended and they took a final bow, Taylor glanced up at the balcony and caught my eyes. I cheered and waved like a silly fan, but I couldn't help it. I knew I would never see another concert like this one, even if Hanson did go on to perform again before Taylor left us. I knew they wouldn't, though. Somehow I just knew that this was it. This was the last time I would see Taylor on stage, smiling and doing what he loved the most.

It wasn't a pleasant thought, but I found a strange sense of peace descending upon me. Everything Taylor and I had been through had finally brought us together; even knowing that I might lose him soon, I couldn't be upset about the journey we had taken because it had ended with a beautiful relationship. It had ended with a love like I never could have imagined. Even when Taylor was gone, that love wouldn't be. How could I be upset when I had something like that to carry with me through the rest of my life?

 

 

> _Can we pick the pieces up_   
>  _We're mending Babylon_   
>  _Tryin' to right the wrong_   
>  _Can we pick the pieces up_
> 
> _Live learn life love die dust gone_  
>  \-- Hanson, Fire On The Mountain


	19. As Slumber Pulls You Down

 

_September 24, 2007_

 

 

> _Just lay down_  
>  _And let your worries sleep_  
>  _Don't think now_  
>  _Of waters dark and deep_  
>  \--Hanson, Never Let Go

 

Taylor Hanson, 24, of Mounds, died Saturday, September 22, 2007, at his residence.

He was born March 14, 1983 in Tulsa, Oklahoma. He was the son of Walker and Diana (Lawyer) Hanson. Taylor was best known as a member of world famous pop rock band Hanson which rose to popularity in 1997 with their hit song MMMbop. The band released their fourth studio album, The Walk, on their label 3CG in July.

Taylor was preceded in death by his grandparents Clyde and Jane Lawyer and Clarke and Bea Hanson, all of Tulsa.

In addition to his parents, Taylor is survived by three brothers, Isaac Hanson, Zachary Hanson and Mackenzie Hanson; three sisters, Jessica Hanson, Avery Hanson and Zoe Hanson; sister-in-law Nikki (Dufresne) Hanson and nephew Everett Hanson, all of Tulsa and Mounds.

The family wishes to express their deepest appreciation to all of Taylor’s physicians, nurses, medical teams, Cancer Treatment Center of Tulsa, employees and partners of 3CG and all fans of Hanson everywhere around the world. They thank everyone who knew and loved Taylor for all they did to let him know he was cared for and thought of during his struggles. Each and every act of kindness, love and generosity will never be forgotten by the family. Taylor was truly grateful for all the love he was shown throughout his life.

The family will receive friends from 2:00 pm to 4:00 pm and from 6:00 pm to 9:00 pm, on Tuesday, September 25, at Moore Funeral Home in Tulsa. They ask that fans please do not attend this private funeral.

A memorial service open to any and all Hanson fans will be held at Cain's Ballroom on September 31.

Interment is in Memorial Park in Tulsa. Pallbearers include Isaac Hanson, Zachary Hanson, Wade Sommers, Jonny Wright, Joe Wright, Josh Wright, Jacob Wright, Jeremy Wright and Ashley Greyson.

In lieu of flowers or other gifts, the family requests that contributions be made to the band's Take The Walk charity which will benefit mothers and children in developing countries.

 

 

_September 31, 2007_

The funeral service was beautiful, but it wasn't Taylor. Even at the end, he hadn't really become much of an organized religion sort of person. Taylor believed in people and music; that was his religion. Sitting in a stuffy church full of people in black... that wasn't Taylor, and I couldn't feel him there. I wanted to know that he was still there with us in some way, if there was such a thing as spirits. But his spirit wasn't in that church.

As soon as I walked in Cain's for the memorial service, I felt Taylor all around.

Isaac and Zac had declined to play or sing at the event. Diana had been the only one to sing at his funeral, a beautiful a capella version of Let it Be. Zac confided in me that it just felt wrong to sing without Taylor, and that he didn't know if the two of them would ever try to perform on their own, but he was certain they would never perform as Hanson again.

Even though it wasn't Hanson, Cain's was full of music that night. Friends and fellow musicians from all over Tulsa and even a few from the rest of the country had shown up to pay their respects to Taylor with all genres of music. There was hardly a moment of silence the entire night. This was how I wanted to remember Taylor—with joy and singing.

There were tears shed, too, of course. Fans packed the building and flooded out into the street, causing a minor panic on the part of the cops who were providing security. I almost wondered if every Hanson fan in the state had shown up, and I was certain I heard a few foreign accents, too.

I blended into the crowd almost entirely. I heard a few whispers and saw a few stares, but everyone left me alone, whether they knew I was the grieving girlfriend or not. I kind of liked the anonymity. I knew who I was, and I knew Taylor loved me. That was enough. The rest of the world didn't need to know me. If they saw his ring on my finger, that was all the answer they would get as to my identity.

Everyone wanted me to speak at the memorial, since I hadn't at the funeral, but I couldn't do it. My thoughts about and feelings for Taylor were mine, not the world's. Compared to everything else he'd given of himself, there wasn't much of him that was mine and mine alone. What precious little I had would stay mine. I had no words to share with anyone. I left the talking to Isaac and Zac.

When the crowd became too much for me to handle, I made my way backstage and found Nikki. She'd set up camp in a secluded dressing room where she could sit and nurse Everett when she needed to, and that was exactly the sort of privacy I needed right then, too.

“How's it going out there?” She asked.

“Good,” I replied. “I mean, it's weird to say you're having fun at something like this, you know? But the music is good, and it just feels... right. This feels like what Taylor would have wanted. God, that's such a cheesy thing to say.”

“Everything people say after someone dies is cheesy. I mean, how many times have you heard someone say they were 'sorry for your loss?'”

“Enough to last me a lifetime,” I replied.

We lapsed into silence as Nikki continued to nurse Everett. After a few moments, she said softly, “I really don't know how you can keep going, though. I'm not judging you or anything, I just keep thinking about what it would be like for me... I think I would go crazy.”

“I think I was crazy to begin with,” I replied with a forced laugh. “It would be different for you now. It was just me and Taylor, you know? And in a lot of ways, it's been just me and him for a long time. Even when we weren't together... we've just always had this weird bond, and that's not the sort of thing that just goes away. I didn't lose that when we weren't together, and I haven't lost it now. That... that helps, I guess.”

Nikki nodded. “You were in love. You both were.”

“As if I haven't been cheesy enough already... it was even more than just love, I think. I don't know what to call it. We just... _knew_ each other. Inside and out.”

Something in those words opened the floodgates. I had shed a few tears here and there over the last few days, but none that even rivaled the tears I cried when Taylor had broken my heart years ago. Right then, though, something in me broke and the tears began to pour. Nikki sat Everett down gently and fixed her dress, then pulled me into her arms. It didn't take long before my tears became contagious and we were both sobbing. We had to look crazy, sitting in a dressing room crying as some band played a loud cover of Only The Good Die Young, but I didn't care and I didn't think she cared either.

I could say all I wanted about how Taylor was a part of me, but he was gone. He had only officially been mine for a year and now he was gone. I could feel him in my heart and soul all I wanted, but I would never see him again, never hear his voice again...

He was just _gone_.

 

 

_January 3, 2008_

In the months after Taylor's death, I threw myself into what was now my work. Since I had been there through the planning of it, I became a big part of running Take The Walk. The record company's office became the charity's office, too, and it was where I spent most of my days and more than a few of my nights. The pool house felt like I was living in a coffin. Sometimes at night, I swore that the bed shifted under someone else's weight. I didn't sleep much those nights. The only way I could keep myself sane was to become a workaholic and insomniac.

While I ran the charity side of things, Isaac and Zac threw themselves into writing and producing for other bands. It was as close to the music business as I knew either of them felt comfortable getting. We all spent a lot of time at the office, just to keep ourselves busy and occupy our minds with thoughts other than Taylor, I think.

A thought had been brewing in my mind for a while, and after making a few phone calls, I found Zac in the studio and asked if he could draw a set of angel wings for me. He seemed confused, but he agreed to do it.

He brought me the finished drawing right before he and Isaac were about to leave for lunch. It was exactly what I had imagined—a small, dainty pair of wings.

“Actually...” I said. “If you're not busy, do you think maybe you could come with me? We can still get lunch afterward, but I'd... I'd kinda like to have someone with me.”

“Sure,” Zac replied, still looking utterly perplexed by all of my requests.

Nevertheless, he followed me to my car and sat silently in the passenger seat as we drove a few blocks away. I parked in front of a tattoo parlor and watched as Zac's expression turned from confusion to something that almost resembled understanding.

As we sat inside and waited for the last minute appointment I'd been lucky to make, I clutched the drawing in my hand. Zac still seemed confused, his eyes darting around to look at all the flash art on the walls.

“A tattoo, huh?” He asked. “That's what I drew for you?”

“Yeah. It was, umm, an idea Taylor had, actually. A few years ago, we were talking about tattoos, and he had this idea... wings and an apple, something about good and evil. Temptation. I always thought he should get the wings, and I should get the apple, because I was always the weak one, giving in to temptation. I never told him that, though. But I've been thinking... I _know_ there's still plenty of him that I carry around with me, but this just feels like something I need to do. Something permanent, so everyone can see that he's under my skin. Literally. You didn't know it, but I think you got the size just right. I want it on my left hip.”

Zac nodded. He understood the significance—that was the site of Taylor's last tumor.

A short hour later, I left the tattoo parlor with a tiny pair of wings on my hip in shades of gray. It hurt, but I didn't care. I'd felt plenty of pain over Taylor, and I was certain I would continue to feel plenty more. I would never be rid of him and the things he made me feel, and I didn't want to be.

 

 

_September 22, 2008_

On the one year anniversary of Taylor's death, I went to his grave for the first time since the funeral. I knew the fans flocked to it, leaving so many gifts that it reminded me of photos I'd seen of Jim Morrison's final resting place. Taylor's grave was their place, not mine. I could remember Taylor anywhere else; I didn't need to visit some patch of grass.

Zac felt the same, but he talked me into going with him on the anniversary. We carpooled, since we were going home to the same apartment. He knew how much living in the pool house killed me, but that I didn't have anywhere else to go other than back to my dad's house, so he offered to split the rent on an apartment with me. I was pretty sure he didn't split it entirely down the middle, since even my job at 3CG didn't pay nearly enough to put me on his financial level, but I never called him out for it.

At the grave, I didn't say anything. Taylor knew I loved him. What more was there for me to say? I just couldn't make the sort of tearful speech that people in movies made. That wasn't my style. I just stood there, letting my tears fall onto the ground, staring at all the cards, flowers and stuffed animals decaying into the ground.

Gifts still poured in at the office, despite numerous pleas to just donate that money. A big part of my job was organizing for most of those gifts to be donated. Most of them were sent to childrens' hospitals, in the hopes of brightening the day of some young person suffering the same sort of disease that took Taylor's life.

When I wasn't working on organizing all the various charity operations we had going on, I was pouring through Taylor's journals. It wasn't an easy task, since a lot of his entries spoke of me. I could see laid out clearly in front of me just how many of his songs were about me. Snippets of real conversations I remembered having with him were recorded on some pages, forming the dialogue of bits and pieces of fictional stories he'd never finished.

Over the last year, a lot of his writing had been devoted to what he'd seen in Africa, and during his last few practically bedridden months, he'd been working on a book about it. We were set to release that in just a few days, along with the last few recordings the band had ever made, including a studio recording of Change In My Life that brought me to tears the one and only time I'd been strong enough to listen to it. I wasn't sure what was more chilling—reading Taylor's words or listening his voice. Both were like seeing a ghost.

The more I read his journals, the more a new idea formed in my mind—a book of his writing. All of the songs, poems and bits of prose that might have otherwise never seen the light of day. Some of it was so personal that I blushed reading it, and I knew those pages should never be released to the public. But even in death, Taylor still had so much left to give the world. I was tired of keeping so many parts of him to myself. He wasn't just mine. He was so much more than that, so much bigger than any of the labels that could be applied to him.

Maybe that was why he couldn't live any longer. There was just too much of him, too much life for one person, so he had to be robbed of it. That was the only way I could rationalize his death, as though death could be rationalized at all. Death just happened, even to people who seemed larger than life and barely even human, like Taylor.

That still didn't make it okay, and I still cried most days. Zac cried at night. I could hear him through the apartment's thin walls. Sometimes neither of us could sleep, and we would sit up watching late night television until we passed out on the couch together. The nights when we ended up in the same bed, just holding each other silently until we finally drifted off as the sun rose, seemed to be increasing in frequency. We rarely spoke of Taylor, but I'm sure he was in Zac's thoughts as much as he was in mine. It would have felt like a horrible betrayal not to think of him constantly. On the few days I did make it through without shedding a tear, there would inevitably be some reminder of him that felt like a shot to the gut. How could I forget him? How could I, for even one second, think life could be normal and okay without Taylor in it? How could I be so heartless?

But I wasn't. I was just human. I was still alive and I had to keep living, somehow. Taylor had once called me stoic, but I didn't think he would say that if he could see me now. Most of the time I was just a mess. I did what I had to do to get through the day, but I wasn't happy. All I had wanted for years was to know that Taylor loved me, and once I learned it, once I felt that love... it was taken from me. It seemed like a cruel joke.

Maybe that love was like Taylor. It was too big to last. Most of the time, even when he was still here but we weren't together, it felt more like pain than love. I just felt so much for him that it seemed it would come bursting out of my body at any moment. That sort of thing couldn't be safe. It was the sort of thing that didn't seem real, just something you see in movies. Soul mates? Twins souls? I don't know. Maybe. All I knew was that Taylor and I had a love that defied definition, defied any sort of normal relationship... defied even death.

I didn't know, at just twenty five, if I would ever really love again, but it didn't matter. It wouldn't be what I felt for Taylor. Nothing else would ever compare to that. No one else would ever be Taylor, and I would never again be the person I was when he was in my life. If there was a part of me in all of his songs, then there was a part of him in everything I was and everything I would do and be for the rest of my life.

 

 

> _Cause you know that I'll love you_  
>  _And never let go_  
>  _And you know_  
>  _That I'll love you forever_  
>  _I'll love you and never let go_  
>  _Yes I'll love you and never let go_  
>  \--Hanson, Never Let Go


End file.
